


To Be Floating Freely in a Clear Sky

by aurorakitty5



Series: Absence of Autonomy for the Chosen Unlucky Few [1]
Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: Adult Arcobaleno (Katekyou Hitman Reborn!), Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Hunger Games Setting, Angst, BAMF Arcobaleno (Katekyou Hitman Reborn!), BAMF Sawada Tsunayoshi, BAMF Skull (Katekyou Hitman Reborn!), BAMF Vongola Tenth Generation, Canon-Typical Violence, Districts have elements associated with them, Gen, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Killing, Murder, No Arcobaleno Curse (Katekyou Hitman Reborn!), No Mafia, Vongola Tenth Generation - Freeform, all the other arcobaleno are assholes, except for fon, hmm, i guess, kinda off screen suicide attempt but there's still talk of it, later tho, the tenth generation isn't really clean, uh, you know. like in canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-03
Updated: 2020-07-31
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:46:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 33,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23992513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aurorakitty5/pseuds/aurorakitty5
Summary: "So, Skull De Mort, winner of the 70th Annual Hunger Games, what do you think of this year's winner?""Oh! I think he's wonderful! Tsunayoshi Sawada has a bright future here in the Capitol!"
Relationships: Fon & Skull (Katekyou Hitman Reborn!)
Series: Absence of Autonomy for the Chosen Unlucky Few [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1737343
Comments: 39
Kudos: 165





	1. Chapter 1

* * *

He wondered how he could feel so lonely surrounded by so many people.

Stifling a sigh, he felt his eyebrow twitch, the only sign that he was disgruntled and annoyed about what was to come.

He had trained himself in the art of showing no emotion, an essential that he had to learn himself when he was stuck alone within the gilded halls of the Victor House.

He was Skull De Mort, the Man Whom Death Despised. The Victor of the 70th Hunger Games.

There was no need for emotion.

Blinking twice, he felt a nudge on his side from the Victor next to him. Resisting the urge to press his lips together in displeasure, he just ignored them.

Placing his gaze on the stage, he focused on the Announcer walking in.

It was tradition that the previous group of Victors would be at the gala that announced the start of the next group. It would be their job to get someone from that group to help the new Victor become accustomed to the Capital's demands and wants, to make sure to teach the person the ropes so that for the next winner, it would be the previous winner who would help them, and so on and so forth until the process repeated.

Skull remembered when he was the person to start off the decade, the hot and new person out of the Arena, and into the hands of the Capitol. He remembered the clouds in his mind, the heavy fog that wouldn't lift. He remembered the stiff greetings they had, the lack of life evident behind their glamorous Capitol personas.

The person who started off the decade always had it the worst, twice as many people yet still only one Victor. Two more people from your District, your home, that would just become numbers on a screen.

He remembered the Sky, the leader of the group who was burning bright, ever so bright that Skull felt he was burning up right in front of him, his secrets revealed and his shell burnt into a husk, leaving behind the boy who survived in the Arena and came out as Victor.

The lack of that brightness was evident when he first stepped into the Victor House.

Inhaling, he just focused on what was in front of him, on the glaring white lights, the noise of the Capitolites tittering and gossiping, the solemn silence of his fellow Victors. 

The Announcer began his speech, his bright voice grating on his ears that he almost squeezed his eyes shut as if to try and block it out. He caught himself, however, and when the Announcer gave a wave of his arm, he made sure to keep his eyes wide open.

"Give it up for our newest Victor, Tsunayoshi Sawada, the Victor of the 80th Annual Hunger Games!"

Skull stood up and the rest of his group did as well, their clapping even and precise, the opposite to the Capitol crowd who were wildly cheering and clapping.

A short boy, for he couldn't be anything but a child, walked out, nervousness evident in his gait and eyes frantically darting around. He had fluffy hair and gave off the aura of a frightened child.

Skull knew better, and looking into those burning orange eyes he couldn't help but wonder what exactly had taken place in the Games.

The Announcer still talking, he risked a glance at his fellow Victors to see what they might be showing.

The 71st Victor, Fon, just stood serenely, no hint of emotion in his burgundy eyes. He was always one of the hardest to read, so he didn't try to study further.

The 72nd Victor, Verde da Vinci, looked in apathy, one hand tucked into his famous white lab coat. There was no sign of interest or of displeasure, which was always best when it came to Verde.

The 73rd Victor, Lal Mirch, just seemed bored. Her sight seemed to be far away, and when he looked in the direction she was staring in, he mentally winced. The bright flames along the sides of Tsunayoshi's pants and jacket must bring back a reminder of her time in the Arena.

The 74th Victor, Mammon, seemed to be preoccupied with doing something else other than observing the new Victor. They were looking at the crowd, most likely to try and find the people who would give them more money.

The 75th Victor, Colonnello, seemed to be at least a bit interested in the new Victor. His head was tilted ever-so-slightly to the left, and he looked to be thinking about something since his normally sharp eyes seemed to be focused elsewhere.

The 76th Victor, Reborn, apparently was deeply intrigued if he was reading his expression right. The brim of his fedora was tilted up and his eyes were laser-focused on the kid, a hint of intrigue in them.

The 77th, 78th, and 79th Victors, cousins Luce, Aria, and Uni, seemed to be holding a silent conversation between themselves, occasionally glancing Tsunayoshi's way. He just chalked it up to their supposed Foresight, or whatever the hell the three were calling it lately.

Focusing on the Announcer, Skull smiled as bright as he could when he noticed the cameras looking in their direction. Deciding to just hope that the others started to finally pay more attention, Skull began his introduction.

"Hello everybody! I'm so glad you're all here at this lovely gala to recognize our newest Victor!"

The words tasted so bitter.

"As all of you know," here, he shot a wink at the cameras, mentally grimacing in disgust when he heard some of the women giggling, "we have a tradition! Once someone from the new decade has won, it is up to someone who won the previous year to help them out a bit before they fly from the nest!"

His cheeks hurt from smiling.

"And so tonight, my fellow Victors and I will be delighted to show our newest Victor the splendor and greatness of the Capitol tonight! Congratulations Tsunayoshi Sawada!"

He could feel the rot in the very air.

With that done, he and his decade sat down once again, with Skull waving at the camera again for good measure. Sitting stiffly yet appearing relaxed, he brought his gaze to Tsunayoshi's.

His bright eyes reminded him of that time so long ago.

The Announcer continued on, making sure to subtly ask for money every other paragraph of words. Standard Capitol procedure.

Once he was finally done, the lights dimmed slightly and Tsunayoshi was not-so-elegantly pushed towards the eager mass of Capitolites.

Lightly growling in disgust at the lack of movement from his fellow Victors, he got up and hurriedly made his way towards Tsunayoshi, making sure to greet the Capitolites as he went.

When Skull finally reached his destination, Tsunayoshi was already surrounded by many Capitol women, all of them cooing over him.

"Excuse me, fine ladies! Skull-sama is here to whisk away our lovely new Victor! I'll certainly come back and chat, but we really must be going!" Skull exclaimed, easily wrestling Tsunayoshi away from the disappointed women.

"Of course Skull-kun, we'll be waiting!" They tittered, fluttering their eyelashes at Skull who just laughed.

"Tsunayoshi, was it?" Skull asked politely, expertly maneuvering him away from the Capitolites who wanted to chat with them.

"Yes, but, please, call me Tsuna." Tsuna replied quietly, looking around in nervousness.

"Alright! My name is Skull De Most, but just call me Skull! Once we reach them, don't worry about my colleagues, they are always prickly." Skull stage whispered, which caused some of the surrounding people to giggle.

"Alright." Tsuna softly replied.

"Don't worry about a thing! One of us is gonna help teach you the ropes so you won't have to worry about a thing once the next Games come around!" Skull said, momentarily feeling remorse when Tsuna flinched. He brushed it off and kept both of them on track to his colleagues.

Finally reaching them, Skull cleared his throat and swung his arm grandly at Tsuna, smiling widely. “Here he is! The man of the night!” At this, the rest of the Victors gave him an annoyed stare, but all turned their gaze to Tsuna who just lightly squeaked and hid a bit behind Skull.

“Firstie,” Reborn started, eyebrows raised, “what do you think you’re doing?”

At this, Skull laughed. “Ah, I’m just showing him who’s gonna be teaching him the way to live here. That is our job, after all.” He happily said, the only sign of his anger being his icy eyes.

Reborn and Colonnello snorted lightly, the others momentarily turning their heads away. Mammon had already left, and Skull briefly looked away to see them over by the Gamemaker.

“Yeah right, like you could teach him anything. Don’t worry Firstie,” Reborn said condescendingly, fedora tilted down once again, “I’ll take care of him. I can certainly teach him better than you can.”

At that, Skull glanced down at Tsuna, who just looked at him frightened. Sending a quick look back at Reborn, who was momentarily talking to Colonnello, he spoke quietly to Tsuna.

“He won’t be able to teach you anything about how to live here. Colonnello certainly didn’t teach him anything because Mammon refused to teach. I’m your best bet, especially since I was the first winner of my decade as well. I know what it’s like.” 

Skull let out a sigh, briefly breaking his character to rub at his temples. “However, I also know Reborn, and he wouldn’t accept not being in the spotlight. I hate to bear unfortunate news, but he doesn’t care about teaching you. He just wants the fame.” Tsuna looked slightly downtrodden, but Skull could only lightly shrug.

“I’ll teach you, not just out of duty but for the peace of mind for both of us. We’ll meet after Reborn is done ‘teaching’ you.” Skull finished, still talking quietly to Tsuna, who looked grateful.

“Thank you Skull De Mort. That would be great.” Skull laughed loudly, drawing all eyes back to the two of them.

“Ok! Reborn is gonna teach you everything! Passing knowledge to the next generation and all that!” Bending down subtly, Skull whispered, “Just call me Skull.”

Skull left, beginning to mingle with the Capitolites as they flocked towards him.

“So,” one woman asked, eyes sly, “Reborn is going to teach him? Why not you, Skull-kun?” Skull laughed loudly.

“Ah! It seemed like he was pretty attached to the kid already! I wouldn’t want to break such a bond!” The people surrounding him laughed, and Skull went to the next group.

“Does this mean you’re going to be able to mentor this next year?” A man asked, an eyebrow raised. Skull nodded, a smile stretching even larger on his face. “Of course! Any person with Skull-sama’s help will have a strong chance of winning the next Games!” Skull winked. “So make sure to sponsor them these next Games!” The group nodded and began to talk to each other again.

Skull drifted off to the side of the room, letting out a quiet sigh of relief at the lack of people around him. Briefly closing his eyes, he thought back to when it was his turn to be helped.

The Victor of the 60th Games was a man named Bermuda, and he was the one who took over training and teaching Skull about the way to live. He was a Sky, one of the lucky few District One Careers to win in that decade. His personality was one of danger, and no one really wanted to get near him. Skull could remember the whispers that followed him whenever he was forced out of the Victor House. However, his teachings had served him well, and Skull was able to help shape Fon into a proper pretend puppet for the Capitol.

It was nerve-racking, as an eleven-year-old, to teach a fourteen-year-old the ins and outs of the Capitol. Skull might have been a “precious volunteer”, but even one year out of the Arena, he was skittish and quiet, still unable to keep his persona up for hours at a time.

He was already in the limelight to begin with due to his age of ten, which had the Careers out for his head. It was an odd time for his escort and district when he had yelled at the top of his lungs that he volunteered. He was ten at the time, and all volunteers were supposed to be between twelve and eighteen years old. However, to his luck and the district’s horror, he was allowed to take the place of the male tribute.

The male tribute being his beloved brother.

He could remember, the time when he could say his last words to his family and friends before being sent off on the train. First, his mother came in, then his brother. They had cried, they had hurt, but he knew he would do all of it again in a heartbeat just to spare his brother.

They say winning changes a person, but he liked to believe he stayed the same.

* * *


	2. Chapter 2

* * *

By the end of the night, Skull had done all of the socializing for the year, manufactured a presence that would help his tribute gain the necessary sponsors, and managed to keep the Capitolites from having to interact with the rest of his decade.

  
Breathing out a sigh of relief as the room finally emptied of the guests, he nodded at one of the Avoxes and made his way to the elevator in the corner of the room. Tapping his foot nervously, he watched as the number on the elevator lazily ticked up to 70. Hearing the soft ding, he walked out of the elevator and made his way to the common room, only to be greeted by a hard pillow in his face once he opened the door.

“Ow! Colonnello-senpai! Why did you throw that at me?” Skull whined, even stomping his foot a little bit.

“Idiot Firstie, where were you the whole night! We were all busy trying to help out Tsuna!” Colonnello replied, reaching down to pick up the other pillow lying on the couch in the room.

“Ah, well, I was too busy talking with the guests! It is important to socialize with them after all-” Skull was cut off when he felt a hard hit to the back of his head, courtesy of Reborn.

“Idiot, I should have thought by now that you would know not to do that. It’s never a good idea to talk with them, who knows what they could do to you.” Reborn said, walking around Skull and sitting in a chair, leaning back in it slightly.

“Well, I was just doing what I was taught to do-” Skull tried to say, only to be interrupted by Luce who just walked in and made her way towards the kitchen.

“Oh, Skull. You know the Capitolites want everything from you. I would think you would see what we’ve told you about them and avoid them and stick with us. I know it can be scary out there for you, so maybe next time stay with us, ok?” Luce said, voice slightly fading as she passed into the kitchen.

“Alright, Luce.” Skull mumbled, the only sign of his fury being the slight furrowing of his eyebrows.

Pretending to look at his watch, Skull spun quickly on his heel and said, “Oh! Would you look at the time! Skull-sama should really be heading to his room. Good night!”.

Before the others could try and stop him, he ran to his room and hastily locked the door, sliding down and letting out a sigh of relief. Getting up after a few minutes, he walked towards the balcony that overlooked the Victor’s Park. Leaning against the railing, he let his thoughts drift to the newest Victor, Tsuna.

“These cold halls won’t help him out.” He said quietly, remembering when he was in Tsuna’s exact position.

It was the end of the night and Bermuda and the rest of his decade group had already left, leaving ten-year-old Skull alone in the ballroom with only the Avoxes for company. Unsure of where to turn, he quietly walked towards one of them and tapped them on the shoulder.

“Excuse me, could you point me in the direction of the Victor elevator?” He asked quietly, rocking back and forth on his feet in nervousness. The Avox nodded and pointed, and he thanked them quietly and raced towards it.

Stepping inside and seeing the doors close, he felt his nervousness and anxiousness increase drastically. Quickly punching the button for floor 70, he pressed himself as close to the back of the elevator as he could, squishing himself into a small figure. When the ding of the elevator finally sounded, it took him a few seconds to realize the doors had opened.

He raced out of the elevator and looked around, the cold halls intimidating him. Reaching for the nearest doorknob, he opened the door and stepped inside.

The first thought that he had was that is was obnoxiously extravagant. The high-domed ceiling and expensive-looking couches that surrounded a glass table served to make him feel even more uncomfortable. Moving forwards a bit, he got a glimpse into the kitchen, a room full of burnished chrome and gleaming countertops.

Stumbling back a bit, he turned around and left the room, heart pounding. Wandering back to the corridor, he opened doors curiously, managing to find the general bathroom, entertainment room, art room, and many empty bedrooms.

He could only infer that those were for the incoming Victors after him.

Finally reaching the door at the end of the hallway, he noticed the small cloud motif embossed in the corner of the door. Assuming it was supposed to be his new room, he hesitantly opened it to see a room full of purples. From the bedsheets to the wardrobe, to the little bit of metal on the table light, everything was at least touched by purple.

Slowly shutting the door behind him, he began to explore the room, opening the wardrobe and the attached bathroom. Raising an eyebrow in surprise, he only wondered for a little while why there was a bathroom attached to the room while the other Victor’s rooms he went into did not. Shrugging it off, he continued to look around, even opening the balcony doors to examine the sights.

Finished with his examination, he hesitantly flopped down on the big purple sofa in the middle of the room, only to let out a yelp of pain. Flipping around, he pushed his finger into what was supposed to be the plush cushion of the couch, only to be met with a wood-like feel.

Grimacing, he got up and moved over to the huge four-poster bed shoved into the corner of the room. Learning from his mistake with the couch, after moving the curtains to the side, he lightly touched the mattress of the bed before he deemed it safe to flop on.

Looking up at the fabric draped over the bed, he just stared. After a little while, he hung off the side of the bed and looked under it.

He found himself face-to-face with his bag.

Grabbing at it, he lugged it up onto the mattress and after reaching through the curtains to turn on the nearby light, he began to take out what was in the bag. Coming from Cloudy District Eight, there was little in his bag in terms of items of value.

There were some sweatshirts, both his and his brothers, along with his cherished pair of boots that he refused to wear into the Arena, too frightened to taint his love of them. There was also his necklace with his initials on a small pendant, small purple beads lining the engraving. He also took out his original accessories, the small purple bead and braided purple cloth filling him with violent homesickness. 

Blinking away the tears, he reached in and found more clothes. However, at the bottom, he found a small red plushie of an octopus. Letting the tears flow down his face, he hugged the plush close, breathing in the smell of cotton and dye, the reminder of a home he had left.

Placing everything back into the bag, he vowed to keep it under the bed at all times unless, in the future, he decided there was a good reason to take it out again.

“Funny,” Skull said, making his way over to that same bed that he had lain in the first night after his entrance, “things always seem to come full circle.”

Bending down to softly grab his bag, he turned the light on and got in the bed, settling at the headboard. Using the zipper with care, he took the faded red octopus plushie from the top of the bag and brought it up to his face, the smell of cotton and dye having slowly faded but still lingering.

The octopus, one of the vital pieces to his Brand that he almost forgot why he used it in the first place by the end of the Games cycle. However, it was times like these that let Skull remember why he had chosen the creature as his.

It served as a reminder of his humanity, before his hands were covered in blood, before his innocence was ripped to shreds, and before his mind was full of echos.

Breathing in one last time, he placed the plush back on top of his clothes and ignored the glint of metal peeking out from one of the sweatshirts. Zipping the bag with care, he once again placed it beneath the bed, his mind finally soothed for the night. 

Walking softly to the bathroom, Skull began to wipe away the makeup coating his face, the blinding metallic blue of the teardrop tattoo gleaming up at him the whole time. Taking out the contacts and placing them in their container, Skull opened one of the drawers and took out a small pad. Opening a different drawer, he took out some tape and placed the pad over the tattoo, using the tape to secure it from all sides.

Leaving the bathroom, he changed into nightclothes and turned off the light, enveloped in darkness. Lying still in bed, he briefly thought of the next day, before succumbing to sleep, body finally relaxing.

☁️

Waking up was always the worst thing.

He groaned, rolling away from the bright sun, mouth opening in a reprimand before he remembered where he was and snapped it shut.

It was always the night after that he felt regret.

Staring angrily at the curtain, he finally pushed himself enough to go to the bathroom, not that it helped much. Grumpily grabbing the makeup bag and moving it closer, he reached up to his face to pull the bandage away, wincing slightly at the pull of skin. Placing it to the side, he opened the makeup bag and located the foundation and blender.

Doing his makeup in the morning always felt like he was donning armor for the day, the defense against everything that would be thrown at him mercilessly. First was the foundation and concealer, then came the eyeshadow, then the highlight, all rounded off by the fake jewels he placed above his eyebrow. His contacts were the final layer, glittering purple and gold.

The blinding metallic blue teardrop tattoo served as his Achilles heel.

Finally feeling well enough to leave the bathroom, Skull made his way to the wardrobe, picking a deep purple v-neck and black skinny jeans. Feeling worse, he quickly went over to the bed, pulled up his bag, and grabbed the sweatshirt that was closest to the top.

Hastily putting it on, he dimly realized it was his before he was comforted by the faint scent of home. He grabbed his HoloScroll, put on his boots, and unlocked the door. Stepping out of the room, he faced an almost silent hallway, only faint noise coming from the common room. Taking a small breath and squaring his shoulders, Skull walked into the room.

Sudden silence greeted him, and he fought the urge to scuff his boot against the floor.

“Oh Skull honey,” Luce finally cooed, the first one willing to speak, “what on Earth is that sweatshirt you’re wearing? Here, take it off and I can find you something better.” Her dark blue eyes stared into his, a direct contrast to the bright yellow flower beneath her eye. He resisted the urge to turn up his nose.

How gaudy, couldn’t she see the colors clashed?

Luce, Aria, and Uni had all adapted quickly to the Capitol fashions, deciding to constantly wear a giant puffy hat and white robes everywhere they went. They even got matching tattoos beneath their eyes and got the color of their eyes altered.

Reborn and Verde soon followed, Reborn changing his eyes to a haunting yellow and Verde permanently changing his hair to a garish green, no hint of his former black hair to be seen. Well, that at least made some sense to Skull; hard to build yourself around a color that you don’t have.

Mammon was next, getting two triangle tattoos on their cheeks. Skull always wondered if they thought the same of them as Skull did of his.

Lal Mirch finally caved and changed her hair to a dark blue, along with putting small flecks of orange into her eyes. Colonnello followed like the good little lap dog he was and changed his eyes to a bright electric blue. Skull always thought that the blue in his tattoo was nicer.

Fon was the last to give in, only changing his eyes to a deep burgundy color. Unlike the cousins, it wasn’t gaudy, so Skull gave him some credit for it.

There was a story behind Skull’s tattoo, but that was for him to think about at another time.

“Ahaha! No need Luce-chan! Skull-sama quite likes this sweatshirt! It reminds him of the early years!” He chirped, taking a vicious pleasure in the way everybody but Fon twitched and glanced away.

“Oh, ok then. Here, why don’t you come and join us at the table? I’m in the middle of serving breakfast!” Luce said happily after a brief moment of awkwardness. He nodded, grabbing the seat next to Fon who just tilted his head.

“So Reborn,” Aria started, looking towards her older cousin who just nodded in support, “when are you planning on teaching Tsuna?”

Skull just looked down with wide eyes into his coffee, the only sign of his annoyance being his eye twitching. Not bothering to look back up, he could feel the tension between the group only increase. He heard Reborn scoff lightly, before hearing a soft clink.

“I suppose I can start now. He lives alone on Floor 80, right? Easy target. I’ll just beat him up a little bit, tell him not to act like Firstie, and keep doing it until I think I’m done.” Skull just blankly looked into his drink, mad at the way Reborn phrased it and mad at the attempted insult of his person, but not mad enough to break his cover.

Looking upwards once again, he saw that the group returned to eating. Finishing his coffee, he got up again and for once, decided to be nice and tell everyone where he was going.

Well, partly tell them.

“I’m so sorry Luce-chan, but I’m afraid Skull-sama must take his leave! He needs to do many important things, and he needs to leave to do them! Skull-sama will return, but he’ll be out for a while!”

Skull just waved, and when he heard the screech of two chairs, he ran out of the room and slammed the door closed. Frantically hitting the Ground Floor button once he got in the elevator, he just smiled brightly when he saw Reborn and Colonnello appear at the doorway to the common room, auras livid.

Sometimes there was satisfaction to be had while living in the Victor’s House.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you really want to know about the flames associated w/the districts, comment and I might tell you ;)
> 
> Also, regarding Career districts, I'm following the same as in the book, and maybe adding a little bit more from it too ;)


	3. Chapter 3

* * *

While he had enough trauma to make the Capitolites' heads spin, he did have to admit that there were some perks to being the decade opener.

Skull laughed silently as he made his way back into the elevator, cheering up at the prospect of being able to teach Tsuna.

It really had been a long day, he hadn't been lying to the group when he said that he would be busy. There was a lot of work that went on behind the scenes of the Victors, and not even Verde, Lal Mirch, nor Colonnello really understood the lengths Skull went to in order to keep the others safe.

The Capitol really was like a gilded cage.

There were some potential sponsors that Skull needed to work with, especially since Reborn was getting fame by being the one who was 'teaching’ Tsuna the ropes. Power such as that drew in the sketchy deals, and even though Skull knew he would be the best one to deal with such things, it didn't make his already busy job any less difficult.

Pushing the button for floor 80, Skull prepared his act. He certainly couldn't waltz in there like Bermuda did with him, nor could he timidly walk in either. Then there was the issue of whether he would yell out his arrival to get Tsuna to come to him or just walk around and find him. There were many different angles Skull could play but he settled on the one most like his past self, a mostly soft-spoken boy who meant well and had the patience of a saint.

Lord knows he would need it dealing with the group later.

Hearing the ding, he left the elevator and headed to where he assumed the common room was. Floor 80 looked exactly like floor 70, so it wasn’t even really an assumption, it was more like memory. Slowly opening the door, he signed in relief at Tsuna being the only presence in the room.

"Ah, Tsuna? It's Skull." he said, making sure to keep his hands and arms visible for Tsuna. He knew all about the paranoia after coming from a high-energy situation and being able to easily assess all threats was a balm on the open wound.

"Oh, Skull! Thank you for coming. Would you like to take a seat, maybe something to eat?" Tsuna asked, nervously fidgeting in the chair he was in.

"No, I'm fine, thank you. Now," Skull chose the couch across from Tsuna, not surprised at the hard feeling of it, "what exactly do you know about the Capitol and its people?" He started off with a loaded question, completely aware of the lack of knowledge Tsuna had, despite being a District One Sky Tribute.

While District One was the favored District, and Tsuna did come from a bloodline that wasn't easily overlooked, there were still some things that they didn't know about the Capitol. Every District had its flaws, and District One's flaw was their belief that they knew everything.

To Skull, it seemed better to come from a lower District and win.

The book on the pedestal where you kept your knowledge of the Capitol had less height to fall.

"Um, not much. I know that the people live extravagantly and that they find those from Districts to be lower than them." Tsuna said nervously, his hands twitching.

"Alright, first lesson, don't show your nervousness. The Capitolites will pounce on it like jabberjays jump on voices. There is little they won't exploit from you, and nervousness is on the long list of things they will exploit. If you get the urge to fidget, think about what's around you, like lights or colors." Skull gently explained, lightly grabbing Tsuna's hands and holding them until they stopped shaking.

"Ok, got it." Tsuna said, inhaling for a few seconds and then letting out a breath, stopping his movements.

"Alright, lesson one done! How do you feel? Am I a better teacher than Reborn so far?" Skull joked, trying to lighten the mood.

"Actually, yes." Tsuna mumbled, hands starting to fidget before stopping once he let out a small breath.

"Please don't tell Reborn this, but he is a horrible teacher. I didn't learn anything from him and he kept insulting you. I couldn't concentrate on anything he was saying." Tsuna whispered, eyes darting around as if Reborn would appear from the walls.

"Ah, yes." Skull said, grimacing in disgust. "Reborn isn't the nicest person around, and he doesn't know anything about what he's supposed to teach you either. Not entirely his fault, but he certainly didn’t try and find out more himself. Being completely honest, the only people you can theoretically almost trust would be Fon and me. You haven’t really gotten acquainted with Fon yet, but I’m sure whispers about District Seven have reached District One. I come from District Eight, so you’ve definitely heard about the mindset there.” Skull softly laughed, taking in Tsuna’s expression.

“You uh,” Tsuna started, clearing his throat, “you come from District Eight? What was it like there? District One isn’t really the best place to be thinking about rebellion, but I want to know.”

Skull blinked in shock. Tsunayoshi Sawada, son of infamous military leader Iemitsu Sawada and grandchild of President Vongola wanted to learn about rebellion? Searching Tsuna’s face for any signs of deception or malice, he conceded when he saw the genuine intentions of Tsuna asking.

“Well, District Eight, as you know, has always hated the Capitol and the Games. Except for the Victors, I think they wouldn’t care if the Capitol just burned down one day and left nobody behind. Drastic, I know, but that’s what people there think. Unfortunately for most of the Victors, they also harbor an immense dislike towards the other Districts, especially District One. I think I’ve heard somewhere that they liked District Thirteen. But obviously it doesn’t exist anymore, so District Eight doesn’t like anyone.” Skull laughed, causing Tsuna to jolt up a little, startled out of his listening.

  
“I feel the exact same way about my fellow Victors! It really is funny, considering the fact that the Capitol touts us as the ideal Victor group. Of course, I make the occasional exception, such as with Fon and now you. No offense, but you’re just a child, and children shouldn’t bear the hatred of adults. Uni is the other exception to the rule, I absolutely hate her about as much as I hate her cousins. She may look cute, but remember, she was the winner of the 79th Hunger Games. The Giglio Nero have always felt wrong to me, especially when I met Luce for the first time. I don’t want to taint your view of them, but there is a reason why all three volunteered and then proceeded to decimate their competition.” Skull let out a breath, briefly closing his eyes. Saying it out loud certainly felt like a relief, especially since most of the Capitol viewed the three as a darling family that could do no wrong.

Opening his eyes again, he lightly smiled at the contemplating face of Tsuna, who had lent back into his chair.

“Ah, enough about that! Our second lesson will be about sponsors! Since the Capitolites are beginning to think about who will be mentoring whom, it’s important that you start building up connections before the time finally comes when they force you to be a mentor. I’m assuming you have a little training in regards to something like this?” Skull asked, nodding in understanding when Tsuna shook his head yes.

“Well, dealing with sponsors will be similar. They all want to be able to say that they helped sponsor the newest Victor, so it’s important that you establish yourself as someone who could reliably bring them that. For example, as Skull De Mort, they think of what I did in the Arena, think about how I acted between winning and finally mentoring, and will think about all that I’ve done and my successes and failures. They are a vital piece to helping your tributes win. However, never mistake their kindness as genuine, they would drop you faster than President Vongola dropped Xanxus, as rude as that implies.” Skull said, frowning when he noticed Tsuna flinch at his last sentence, eyes darting around and not looking at Skull.

“Hey,” he said softly, tapping the arm of the couch he was sitting in to try and get Tsuna’s attention back on him, “what’s bothering you?”

Tsuna slumped his shoulders and looked past Skull as if seeing something else.

“Sorry, it’s just that I get a bit emotional when Cousin Xanxus is brought up. It’s not your fault, it just makes me angry that Grandfather has managed to taint people’s view of Xanxus after what he did. That expression is an example.” Tsuna said, eyes lighting up with an inner fire that Skull hadn’t seen in anyone’s eyes since Fon had won.

It was the fire of rebellion.

“Thank you for telling me, and two things. One, I’ll make sure to stop using that expression in your presence. Two, I’m gonna have to help train you out of showing a reaction, little things like that will have the Capitolites ripping you apart.” Quickly glancing at his watch, he grimaced as he saw the time.

“Hate to tell you this and leave you alone after having such a conversation, but it’s time for me to get back to my floor. You gonna be ok here tonight?” he asked, raising only an eyebrow when Tsuna slowly nodded.

“Alright, if you say so. Same time and place next week?” he said as he got up from the couch, stretching lightly to get rid of any kinks left in his back from such a hard surface.

“Yes, thank you.” Tsuna replied, smiling gently when Skull just shot him a quick wink and opened the door, closing it softly before walking towards the elevator.

Getting in and seeing the doors close, he leaned his forehead against them lightly, closing his eyes and taking a few seconds to re-orient himself before hitting the button for floor 70.

“Little more than ironic that President Vongola throwing Xanxus out of the Capitol caused Tsuna to want to rebel. Let’s see if my tribute will be willing to stand by him and his goals. After all, it will be mine that will step out of the Arena as Victor.”

Skull bore his teeth as the doors dinged open, a hint of what lay beneath his facade appearing briefly in his eyes.

“I haven’t given up so much just to be met with failure.”

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Maybe a chapter a day? Idk, I kinda feel like dying every day so let's see what my schedule will be.


	4. Chapter 4

* * *

His joy almost overshadowed his dread for once.

Ten months after he first sat down and talked with Tsuna, Skull could say he was very impressed and very happy about the results. Tsuna had grown into The Sky Spot, a Capitol darling. Everything he did was praised and admired, and what wasn’t was usually swept under the rug.

The President was so impressed, he gave Tsuna a gift to give to his teacher, to give them a reward for shaping him into a wonderful jewel for the Capitol and their family.

Skull made sure to burn it in private once he had some alone time.

However, even his momentary satisfaction at destroying something the President gave wasn’t enough to block out his mounting dread and disdain for what was about to happen. Back at the end of March, District Eight’s Escort had called him a brief meeting to remind him about the upcoming Games and his impending Mentor status.

In a once-in-a-lifetime moment, he had briefly envied Lal, Colonnello, Verde, and Uni and Aria for not having to take part in such a thing. That moment passed quickly, his envy being replaced by his usual disgust for the two Trainers, the Arena Developer, and the two cousins.

The former three were incredibly busy, Lal and Colonnello preparing their training programs and their armory, and Verde was busy with his team and the Gamemaker, designing the new Arena. Aria and Uni were deemed “too young” to take place in the Mentor business, and the others from his decade could just take the Districts that had the same element as their District if there was no one to take over the Mentor role. If there was still no-one from his year group, other Mentors could be used.

Briefly sending his thanks to whatever mystical deity was out there for not letting the possible tributes be Mentored by those five people and that there was only one Cloudy District, Skull had just nodded, took the packet that was handed to him, and fled all the way to his room, locking the door behind him. The paperwork was just a bunch of forms that had almost no meaning, except for the prize money given to whatever Mentor had the Victor.

Putting the stack of paper to the side, Skull let his head fall onto the hard desk he was sitting at, breathing harshly out of his nose. Pouting into the desk, Skull raised his head at the soft knock on his door.

“Who is it?” he called out, pushing back his chair and making his way towards the door.

“It’s Fon.” the person said, voice muffled but not enough to make the voice undistinguished.

“Ok, yeah, hold on a sec.” Skull replied, unlocking the door and opening it wide enough so that Fon could squeeze through. Casting a glance at the stack of papers he held in his hand, Skull just let out a sigh and relocked the door, motioning Fon to go by his couch.

Grabbing his own papers, Skull joined him, putting his pile right next to his guest’s pile.

“So, I doubt you’re here for a social call?” he asked, an eyebrow raised. Fon just nodded, giving his pile of paper a look before turning to face Skull fully.

"Listen, I just want to say two things. If it turns out that it’s my cousin who gets reaped, I want you to treat him like you would any other tribute. It may sound harsh, but I know how he thinks, and doing that would be your best bet to get him to cooperate with you. Two, would you mind helping me with some of these forms? I know the rest of the group has almost no idea how to fill them out, so if you teach me how to do some, I could keep them off your back.”

Skull sat in silence, contemplating his words.

“Ok, I’ll agree. Maybe it will help your mind if I told you that I was planning on having my Victor win. I’ve been playing the long-game with this one. Either way, I’ll treat him like I would have originally. Now,” Skull motioned towards the piles of paperwork sitting innocently on the table, “are you ready my student?”

Fon just nodded, eyes gaining a determined glint.

☁️

“Ah, Escort-kun!” Skull yelled, making his way along the train. They were currently in District Six and there was about an hour until the train reached his former home. Skull’s hair had begun to slightly frizz, and unless he wanted to potentially get made fun of, he needed his Stylist.

“Escort!” Skull was beginning to get annoyed, purposefully dropping the -kun from the word. He had found that if he did that, the Capitol people involved in the Games would get antsy.

“I-I’m here Skull De Mort!” he heard a faint yell reach him, sounding as if the Escort was on the small outside part of the train at the very back. Sighing in annoyance, he walked quickly towards the back of the train, finding the Escort facing the outside as they leaned towards the railing.

“Ah, Escort! Could you please tell me where to find my Stylist? I’m afraid I need their help.” Skull asked, swinging his arm around his Escort’s shoulders, causing them to tense.

“Ah, of c-course. They should be in Cabin Thirteen. Is there anything else?” The Escort said, fidgeting slightly.

“Haha, no, but thanks for asking! Why don’t you go back to preparing your little speech? It’s always good to leave a good impression for the people who live in District Eight. After all, who knows what might happen.” Skull left the Escort, feeling slightly better. He took joy in making the new people hired by the Capitol for positions in the Games either fear him or adore him.

District Eight’s Escort will fear him.

Walking towards Cabin Thirteen, he could feel a growing apprehension. It wasn’t as if he was scared by his Stylist, but he needed to be a certain level of drunk to deal with him head-on. Reaching the door, he cautiously knocked and then entered, biting the inside of his lip in nervousness.

“AH! Skull-chan!” Lussuria exclaimed, dropping the fabric that he had been holding, making it plop back down on the desk.

“Eh, hello Luss-nee-san.” Skull said awkwardly, rubbing the back of his head. “I’m wondering if you could help flatten out my hair?”

“Of course!” Lussuria replied, darting over to the bureau in the corner, motioning Skull to walk over. Grabbing a towel from nearby Lussuria got work, successfully bringing Skull’s hair back to a respectable look.

“There you go, good as new! And just in time too. Looks like we’re at District Eight.” Lussuria said, causing Skull to race out of the cabin and into the hallway, making sure not to ruin his hair. Running to his cabin, he double-checked that he had everything, and then hurried to the exit, making it just in time to stand by the Escort as the doors opened.

Forcing himself to keep pace with the Escort, he looked around in melancholy, memories bubbling up from the back of his mind. It had been eleven years since he had been in District Eight, and while he would have liked to return for a better reason, he would take what he could get.

As their group got nearer and nearer to the Reaping Stage, he could feel himself begin to mentally prepare for what was about to happen. Reaching the main building, Skull decided to stay with the group. He felt he was strong enough to stand nearby, and seeing his tributes either get reaped or volunteer would help him get a good idea of how to Mentor them.

Taking a place towards the back of the stage, he stood completely still, eyes searching for two familiar faces in the crowd.

“Good morning District Eight!” the Escort yelled cheerfully, the giant podium hiding their hands shaking with nerves.

There was silence.

“Ah, well, as you know, it really is lovely that the Capitol is holding these Games again. They serve as a reminder of the Dark Days, and as such, each District must offer up two tributes, a male and a female. Now,” the Escort turned away from the silent crowd, momentarily dropping their facade to show terror, motioning the nearby Peacekeepers to bring up the reaping balls. Turning back, they plastered their smile back on, their fear covered once more, “for the female tribute.” they reached their hand in, the shaking almost unnoticeable.

“Iris Hepburn!”

Skull blinked rapidly. Iris? He could barely remember her from his memory, but as soon as he saw her afro, he could remember seeing the then-two-year-old run around the streets, laughing and playing. Now, he saw how she had changed, her eyes holding malice and her body language screaming danger. She was no longer a three-year-old child playing with her friends, she was a fourteen-year-old girl about to head into a bloodbath.

Snapping out of his thoughts, he turned his attention to the Escort, who looked a bit shaken and glancing at Iris, he could see why.

“And for the male tribute,” the Escort said, voice only shaking slightly,

“Kyouya Hibari."

Well, damn.

Skull could distinctly remember the four-year-old running around and wrecking havoc far more than he remembered Iris at all. Fon's cousin was a hellion, and he was almost glad that it was him who was chosen. It would be easier to train him to win than if it were someone else. Seeing Kyouya walking to the stage, he could see the tense posture and the violence he was holding back.

He smiled grimly. It would be much easier for him to win.

After tuning out the Escort who began blathering out non-important things, he took the time to examine the tributes more closely.

Iris seemed to be keeping still fairly well, only twitching here and there. She was wearing a white jacket with blue jeans, and had giant hoop earrings in with two little hearts dangling from them.

Obviously, he mused, her family moved up in power. Things like that weren't available to the general population.

Kyouya, on the other hand, wore a white shirt with a simple black jacket and some black pants. His hand seemed to be inching towards his pocket, but he kept bringing it back to where it was previously resting.

He held in a sigh. That was the issue with those from District Eight. While it wasn't a Career District, nor did it churn out Peacekeepers, everyone was surprisingly either violent or surrounded by people. 

Before he had been entered into the Games, he had fit into the first category for a long time. His hand moved on its own, ghosting over where he had worn his necklace for years before being reaped. It wasn't his token, it was too precious for him to taint it with violence, like his boots. No, his token was tucked away in the corner of the room he slept in, hidden behind numerous things both physically and mentally.

Startling slightly when he heard a loud commotion, he looked over at the Escort who looked a little pale and was moving hurriedly towards the train, hands held awkwardly at his sides. Sighing, he began to make his way towards the train as well. He was going to greet the tributes as they ate lunch and begin his lessons.

After waiting a while, an Avox knocked on his cabin door and motioned him out. Inhaling deeply, Skull walked out and he soon entered the dining cabin, smile on full blast and not faltering when he had two glares turned on him.

"Hello! My name is Skull De Most, Man Whom Death Despised, and I am going to be your Mentor!" Casually dodging the knife thrown at him, he raised an eyebrow at the blank look on Kyouya's face and the terror the Escort had on theirs. Motioning the Escort out, Skull turned back to the two tributes.

"Now, are you ready for your first lesson?"

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm getting strong The Royal Tutor vibes from Skull now. All he needs is red hair and eyes and be short and he'd almost be Heine.


	5. Chapter 5

* * *

Iris and Kyouya were like water and electricity.

Completely dangerous.

Skull sat in the common room back in the Capitol, hand over his eyes and silently groaning, giving up on appearance, and the potential for a smack to the head of the rest of his group appeared. The two tributes had finally learned to respect him on their way to the Capitol. The only knives thrown at him were with purely friendly intentions.

Well, he hoped they were friendly.

Upon reaching the Capitol, their Stylists had whisked them away, neither showing any fear at the fierce glares they received. He had to give them credit for that, not many people could even properly look his tributes in the face.

After their makeup was over, he remembered standing off to the side of the Avenue of the Tributes ready to say some words to them before their chariot started rolling. Seeing their costumes for the first time, however, almost caused Skull to go into hysterics.

Their outfits were a bright blue and purple, clashing horribly. Kyouya seemed to be wearing a large patterned knit beret, the bright purple on one side, and the bright blue on the other. There was also a large amount of ribbon shoved on the top, looking a bit like an attempt of a bow. His tunic and pants weren’t much better, the odd duel colors clashing horribly all the way down to his shoes, which were, fortunately, a shiny black. He even had two ruffles on his shoulder, one a sheer purple and one a sheer blue.

Iris didn’t look much better. 

On her head laid a purple and blue flower crown, made of the same material as the ribbon on Kyouya’s beret. Her tunic and pants matched Kyouya’s except that they were on the opposite sides, and her shoes had a modest heel and were also a shiny black. Her ruffle was placed around her neck, the sheer purple and blue not even lining up with the split of colors on her tunic.

Skull could barely look them in the eye, too afraid of bursting out laughing. The Stylists hadn’t accompanied them and he had the feeling that he wouldn’t be seeing them for a while. Taking a deep breath, Skull changed the advice he was going to give them, spotting an opportune moment for a chance to help them establish themselves to the Capitol.

“Alright,” Skull started, taking another deep breath when the two furious tributes looked at him, “we can make something out of this. When you started riding out, look exactly like you do now. Just because the Capitol wants you to look like fools doesn’t mean that you have to go along with it. Look angry, look like you are going to, as Kyouya says often, ‘bite them to death’.” he said, making sure to stay serious. Iris and Kyouya shot a glance at each other, and Skull decided to add a bit more.

“Looking fierce is something that attracts Sponsors, and you need Sponsors to win the Games. At least you guys are, dare is say it, luckier than I was when I had to ride in the chariot. It was before I had my flames, so they had to dye my hair a bright purple, which clashed horribly with the outfit they prepared for me. I looked like a kid who found out their Capitol parent’s closet was open and their hair dye was laying around and decided to try both. So, take solace in that your Stylists didn’t touch your hair. Now, go out and show those Capitolites what the District Eight tributes think of their games.”

It had been great, he mused, running a hand through his hair. They had looked livid the whole time and he had overheard some potential Sponsors gossip about how his tributes already looked trained and ready for the Games. 

That gave Skull a burst of pride in his chest. 

Hearing voices outside the door, he didn’t bother to try and put his facade back on, content to stay relaxed against the couch. The door opened almost violently, and the group trickled in.

“Firstie! What the hell was that?” he heard Colonnello shout, voice mixed with anger and confusion.

“Huh? Did you say something Colonnello-sempai?” Skull asked childishly, raising his head off the back of the couch to see the rest of the group looking at him. Unsurprisingly, no one except Fon looked at him with positive emotion.

“Yeah, I did! What the hell was that? Your tributes looked furious, so what the hell did you do to them?” Colonnello asked, brows furrowed.

“It must have something really stupid if you set them off that bad.” Reborn added, tilting his fedora further down.

Skull laughed, sounding incredibly fake.

“Ah, I said nothing! My tributes are just like that! Why, you jealous that your tributes just look wimpy? Not my fault District Eight churns out quality like my tributes.” Skull taunted, grinning in delight when the people who had tributes just stiffened, sending harsh looks at Skull.

“As if Firstie.” Reborn said, sounding angry. Skull just kept grinning, content in the anger his words had caused.

“Aw, it’s ok! Skull-sama knows that his tributes are the best, and it’s only fair that those who have sub-par tributes are defensive. What, too ashamed at what you’ve been given?” Skull asked, grin widening in delight when Luce made her way forward, a disappointed look in her artificial blue eyes.

“Skull, that was very rude. Apologize to Reborn and Colonnello.” she demanded, hands on her hips. Skull laughed again, not daunted in the least.

“Ahah, Luce-chan, why should I apologize for telling the truth?” he got off of the couch, walking past the group which had gotten closer. “Anyways, hope to see what scores your tributes get, see if they’re close to the one's mine will. Goodnight Luce.” he exited, slamming the door behind him and laughing all the way until he flopped on the bed, grin staying.

“Simply no competition with them.”

☁️

A month had passed quickly, and he wondered if it had seemed too quick when he was a tribute. 

Sponsors had begun to pour in, for both Kyouya and Iris. Their performance at the Avenue of the Tributes had brought them a lot of attention, and with the fact that Skull was their mentor, it was fairly easy for them to gain sponsorships even before their demonstration of skills, which was to take place that day.

He liked to think he was observant and between his strategy meetings with the two, he also frequently looked at how their training was going, both in an effort to make their strategies unique to the two, and to see what their possible score might be.

Kyouya thrived in all of the different training parts, the only thing he struggled with was the water survival. He detested water but was determined to make the best of the lesson. Weapon handling came almost naturally to him, and while his traps and camouflage weren’t the best in the group, he was fairly good at them.

Iris had a bit more trouble with the training, falling slightly behind Kyouya in handling every weapon, but her ability to navigate a forest and understand all the different plants that could grow in different environments were uncontested, sometimes even pointing out errors the instructor made.

The two tributes didn’t really manage to make any alliances, too concerned with bettering their own skills. He certainly didn’t make any alliances, too caught up in fear and his drive to master every skill. However, the thing they all had in common was that the Careers were immediately out for their heads.

Skull leaned against the wall in the Training Facility, waiting for his tributes to go out and get scored. Iris was planning on showing her mastery over whips, deciding to give a demonstration with dummies. She was also planning on showcasing her identification abilities, which was certainly one of her strongest points.

Kyouya, on the other hand, had grown incredibly possessive of a pair of tonfas he had found the first day of training which he refused to part with. Skull didn’t know of the plan he had for a demonstration, but Kyouya had a dark look in his eyes when Skull asked him, which either meant he had a plan or he was just going to go feral on some training dummies.

“District Eight, Iris Hepburn!” Lal said over the loudspeaker, drawing Skull’s attention to Iris, who just calmly got up and went to the door. This brought back memories to when it was he who walked through the doors.

He was nervous, twitching slightly as he entered the large room.

“District Eight, tribute Alexey Svoboda, sword.” he stated, before moving towards the large rack with all the different swords.

Picking up the claymore and slinging it over his shoulders, he made his way towards the first dummy nonchalantly, making sure to keep his expression neutral. Reaching the dummy, he got into his first stance, took a deep breath, and then lunged at the dummy, swinging it down and connecting with the chest before dragging the sword all the way down.

He had earned a ten.

Shaking himself back into the present, he saw Iris return, with a smug grin on her face and her steps purposeful.

“District Eight, Kyouya Hibari!” he heard Lal announce, spotting Kyouya stop slouching against the wall and begin prowling towards the doors, shooting a sharp look at Skull, who returned it.

Minutes went by and Kyouya soon exited, a glint in his eyes that Skull had learned meant he was satisfied. Nodding to himself he left the spot where he was standing, making his way outside and into the evening light.

When evening hit, all of his decade were in the common room, either smug or nervous about the scores that were to be shown. Colonnello and Lal had remained tight-lipped on the scores, but he had noticed the looks the two gave him when they thought he wasn’t looking.

Moving slightly on the hard couch in a futile attempt to get more comfortable, Skull looked around at those who had gathered.

Lal, Colonnello, and Verde were understandably not paying much attention, seeing as they either already knew the scores or didn’t care.

Mammon was perched on a stool they had brought out from the kitchen, hood still covering their eyes.

Fon and himself were seated together on one of the couches, not particularly anxious or nervous about their tributes.

Reborn was seated in a chair, eyes almost glued to the TV, not even really noticing when Luce had placed a cup of coffee on the table for him earlier.

Luce, Aria, and Yuni were all in the kitchen, none particularly interested in the TV, Skull guessed, until the first two tributes were announced.

The Capitol jingle interrupted his thought, a scowl forming on his face for a brief second until he smoothed out his expression.

“Good evening citizens!” The Announcer said cheerfully, misty blue eyes laser-focused on the camera he was looking at.

“Tonight is a very special night! For those who don’t know, tonight we reveal the scores that all the tributes received after showing off their skills to a panel of judges! I, for one, am very excited to see who could have a strong chance of winning the Games! Let’s begin!”

Skull looked over briefly to see Luce and her cousins peek out from the kitchen doorway, eyes focused on the pictures that just flashed on the screen.

“District One! A nine from the girl and a nine from the boy!” After that, they returned to the kitchen and Skull could hear whispers as they started cooking again.

“District Two! A nine from the girl and an eight from the boy!”

“District Three! A six from the girl and a five from the boy!”

“District Four!” Skull noticed Reborn focus even more on the TV. “A seven from the girl and a six from the boy!” Reborn looked angry.

“District Five! A six from the girl and a seven from the boy!”

“District Six! An eight from the girl and a seven from the boy!” Reborn looked even angrier.

“District Seven! An eight from the girl and a seven from the boy!” Fon looked slightly startled, but recovered his serene mask quickly.

“District Eight!” Skull immediately stiffened up, ignoring the looks that were shot at him. He hoped his big talk had results to back it. “A nine from the girl and the first ten of the night from the boy!” He could feel himself deflate from relief, grinning brightly at the dirty look Reborn gave him.

“District Nine! A seven from the girl and a seven from the boy!” Fon looked neither startled or relieved.

“District Ten! An eight from the girl and a six from the boy!” Skull saw Mammon briefly shift on their stool.

“District Eleven! A five from the girl and a six from the boy!”

“And finally, District Twelve! A seven from the girl and a five from the boy!” The pictures faded away and the Announcer was back on screen, eyes looking directly into the camera.

“Well, certainly a surprise out of District Eight! Almost reminiscent of the 70th Reaping, with our Skull De Mort having received a ten! A disappointing show from District Four! Maybe Reborn isn’t up to snuff like Skull is! Thank you for watching and I will see you again on the eve of the Games with live interviews!”

The TV turned off and Skull immediately ran from the room, Reborn hot on his tail. Somehow, the Announcer had made him a target again, even after the Games! Completely unfair. Slamming the heavy door on Reborn, Skull dived towards the balcony and also shut those doors, taking only one deep breath before leaning against the rail.

“Well, those scores will certainly win over any Sponsors on the fence. Hopefully, they will give a good show at their interviews.”

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh! Skull backstory! Skull backstory!
> 
> Obvi, he doesn't go by that name anymore, but.... ;)


	6. Chapter 6

* * *

Somehow, the interviews were making Skull nervous, even though it wasn’t even him going on the stage.

“Remember, don’t give away any plans you have for the Games, and if you decide on a tragic backstory or something, make sure you stay consistent. You could do a love angle, a rivalry angle, as long as you stay consistent you’ll be fine.” Skull rambled, standing next to Iris and Kyouya, waiting for the interviews to start. The two just gave him a look and he quieted down, still fidgeting in his, well, his government-assigned biker outfit.

Thankfully they didn’t take out his helmet.

Blinking, he heard the loud cheers of the audience as the Announcer finished talking, which meant that the tribute interviews were about to begin. He moved a bit and glanced at the front of the line, narrowing his eyes almost reflexively at Luce who was standing with her tributes. Turning back to his, he noted with pride their stoic expressions.

“District One female!” one of the TV people whispered from upfront, the departure of the girl causing the line to move up slightly. He internally sighed, it looked like he would be playing the waiting game. Tapping Fon on the shoulder, Skull motioned with his head for them to move closer to the wall, not the most ideal place for a chat but the best one he could find.

“So,” Skull began lowly, “how do you think your cousin is doing?” Fon laughed lightly, amusement visible in his eyes.

“Skull, you’re doing a great job. His behavior is astounding, especially considering how much he hates ‘crowding’. I’m constantly surprised there hasn’t an announcement about the District Eight male tribute gone missing.” Fon joked, startling a soft laugh out of Skull.

“It certainly seemed like that would happen the first time I met them. I haven’t had a knife thrown at me since I was in the Arena!” Skull said, seeing some heads turn in his direction.

“Yes, well, my cousin certainly has a lot of, ah, ‘quirks’ to him. They might come in handy now.” Fon said softly, glancing at Kyouya who looked to be busy talking quietly to Iris.

“District Six male!” the voice shouted, causing Skull and Fon to look at each other. The two nodded, and they both made their way back to their tributes.

“Iris, Kyouya, have you decided what you’re going to be doing?” he asked quietly, looking his two tributes over.

“Ah, I’m gonna try and use my charm to get the Capitolites to like me.” Iris said, twisting the small purple cloth bracelet she was given.

“I will just be myself.” Kyouya said, rustling his suit.

“Ah, ok!” Skull said, smiling nervously.

“District Seven female!” Skull looked in front of him at Fon’s remaining tribute from District Seven, the girl already gone. The boy seemed to be nervous, fidgeting every couple of seconds. He didn’t seem to be much, but, Skull supposed, there were wolves in sheep’s clothing and it was possible that he was one such example.

“District Seven male!” off the boy went, only slightly stumbling as he got closer to the stage doors and left. Standing closest to the door now that District Eight was up, Skull could feel some tension radiating off of Iris and Kyouya, Iris moreso. Skull knew from experience that the three minutes allotted to each interview lasted far longer when you were up there.

“District Eight female!” the person called out, and Skull turned to look at Iris, giving her a solid nod in support before she went towards the doors and opened them, her long purple dress trailing after her.

Skull and Kyouya stood in silence, a mutual understanding between them. There was no need for whispered words of support, and showing fear would only serve to agitate Kyouya, so Skull stayed silent.

“District Eight male!” the voice called, and without a backward glance, Kyouya walked out of the room, paces even and sure. Skull let out a soft sigh and moved to the wall, giving a small look at Fon, who was by his District Nine tributes, and Mammon, who was by their District Eleven tributes.

Moving his eyes up towards the overhead TV, he saw Iris appear on the screen, a sultry look on her face that made him grimace in anger, disgust over the fact that a child would have to resort to something like that to ensure their survival in the Games.

“Ah,” the Announcer started, eyes seeming to sparkle, “Iris Hepburn, one-half of our surprising District Eight tributes! How are you feeling right now?” he asked, motioning her to sit on the chair. Iris complied, dress bunching up at her lap.

“Oh, I’m feeling great! You know,” she turned to the audience, a pout on her face that caused the audience to let out an ‘aw’ sound, “it’s so lovely to be here, seeing all these lovely clothes and decorations my District has made! It really is such a pleasure!” Iris turned back to the Announcer, a smile on her face.

“So, since you’ve brought it up, how was it, living in District Eight, compared to your time here?” he prompted, causing her grin to widen even more. “Oh, it was very lovely, although not as lovely as it’s been here in the Capitol! Everyone here has been so nice to me, and my Mentor is very good at what he does!” Skull noticed her smile became genuine when she said that, before returning to its plastic state.

“Ah! Your Mentor is Skull De Mort, correct? Winner of the 70th Hunger Games at only ten-years-old! What an accomplishment, but we are here to talk about you, yes? I’ve heard you got a nine as your training score! A high number from a lower district, wouldn’t you say?” the Announcer asked, leaning forward in his chair.

“Well, the only thing I can say to that is that I trained my very best, and my Mentor was such a big help!” Irish gushed, throwing a look towards the audience who started to rumble in support.

“Well, that great to hear! Certainly serves as hope for those in lower districts worrying about getting good scores, no? Unfortunately, our time is almost up, so if you could give us one last courtesy and show off your dress?” the Announcer asked, getting up with Iris following. She nodded and walked to the front of the stage and spun. The audience ‘ooh’ed and ‘ahh’ed as she moved, her dress shifting and changing colors beneath the glaring lights. The two shook hands and Iris walked off to the other side of the stage, giving one last wave to the audience who cheered.

Skull nodded to himself in pride, before focusing back on the screen.

“And for our next guest, a recent birthday boy, and a supposed relative to our famous Martial Artist, Kyouya Hibari!” the Announcer said, sweeping his arm to the side as Kyouya walked out, scowl clear on his face.

Sitting before the Announcer could ask him to, Kyouya kept scowling, eyes sweeping over the cheering crowd.

“Now, Kyouya Hibari, the other half of our District Eight tributes, how are you feeling?” the Announce asked, sitting back down.

“I could be better.” Kyouya replied, causing Skull to facepalm, the sound drawing attention to him to which he just waved away. It could be worse, he rationalized, he could have just not answered at all.

“Oh?” the Announcer asked, leaning closer which caused Kyouya to stiffen and lean back.

“Yes. While I normally train on my date of birth, I was forced to do nothing but stay in my room. Those herbi- _people_ ,” Skull noticed he caught himself before he could say ‘herbivores’, “wouldn’t let me out to train, which made me lose a day of training.”

“Oh, you like to train that much? Did the same apply while you were in District Eight?”

“Yes.”

Skull sighed, one-word answers from Kyouya meant that he was getting agitated, and Skull just hoped the Announcer could read what Kyouya was trying to say.

Luckily, he did.

“Hm, as expected from the tribute who got a ten as their training score. Do you feel like your odds of winning are high with such a score?” the Announcer prompted, causing Kyouya to grin, his expression showing his surety.

“Of course. There is no reason for my victory to not be ensured.” That was a line that would bring in Sponsors, no doubt about it. It was a bold statement, but from what little Kyouya had said, it was one that people could assume he would follow through with.

Turning his attention away from the screen, Skull made his way back to the Victor’s House, sure that at least it would be one of his tributes who would emerge as Victor.

☁️

As it turned out, watching the Games was just as scarring as being in them.

He had refused to get out of bed to watch the Games, unable to bring himself to watch his tributes be subjected to similar horrors he had gone through. He was only vaguely aware of an assumed end date, the tributes whittled down to a mere four. The group decided they would either try to bully him for being a coward or give him information, quiet whispers of when they thought the Games might end, understanding his hiding.

Skull wasn’t sure if both of his were still alive, and he wondered when he would finally be ok.

Deciding to bite the bullet and get up one day, he walked wobbly to the common room, hyperaware at his dress and lack of makeup. Entering quietly, he immediately noticed the TV running, just as it had been for two weeks. Moving into the kitchen, he took a glance at the calendar, a bright red circle around June 7. Thinking back to when his hell ended, the date of June 10 burned into his mind forever, he let out a small sigh.

“Oh, hello Skull!” A chipper voice startled him, causing him to jump and quickly grab a knife, pointing it at the person.

Uni stared at him, an innocence in her eyes that he refused to be tricked by. She was an enemy and suddenly he was back in the Arena, senses focused and alert, lungs burning and heart racing, raising his knife to stab the person in front of him, to kill them and get him out, out, out-

“-SKULL!” A voice shouted, snapping him from his memories and bringing himself back, blinking owlishly at the person in front of him, brain confused.

“Eh, who are yo-” he started to ask, before his thoughts finally caught up with him. “Fon? What’s wrong, what’s going on?” he asked, staring in confusion. Fon blinked rapidly, eyes darting to the side before returning.

“Well, you had a moment where you didn’t recognize Uni and tried to injure her, and when we came to try and help you didn’t recognize us either, and tried to injure us as well.” Fon explained, causing Skull to look down briefly, noticing the knife that he had been holding was placed far out of reach.

“Ah, haha? Skull-sama did that? Whoops, sorry.” His laugh sounded bitter, apology weak.

Before Fon could say anything, there were three canon shots from the common room, meaning the time he had feared finally happened. Roughly pushing past those in the kitchen, he stood before the TV, not seeing the camera pan over the newly deceased tributes. He waited, the seconds torturous and his heart beating in his throat. Finally, the Victor’s picture was put on screen, ‘Winner of the 81st Hunger Games’ in bright red font beneath the portrait. He inhaled deeply, not registering the pats on his shoulders or the noise the rest of the group was making.

Kyouya Hibari’s face stared back at him.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry y'all, this chapter was surprisingly hard to write.


	7. Chapter 7

* * *

When Skull heard Kyouya was all healed, he immediately went to find him.

The next few days were going to be the worst but as his Mentor, Skull was determined to help him in any way that he could. There was the post-Games interview and the celebrations in the Capitol to deal with, along with the crowning and final interview with the President, and then the Gala where they announced him as the winner. After that, he was going to be put on Floor 80, whose only occupant at the moment was Tsuna. Once those few hectic days pass, in six months' time he was going to be on the Victory Tour, which Skull, Kyouya’s Stylist, his prep team, and District Eight’s Escort would also be attending.

Not a very good combination of people to be with while reliving trauma.

Reaching the doors to the place where Kyouya was still being held, all he had to do was say his name and he was given a room number, the nurse stuttering in her awe. Giving thanks, he rushed off to the room, bracing himself for what he might end up seeing. The gold-embossed number plate on the door gave him a burst of anger that he ruthlessly squashed down. Knocking lightly and opening the door, the first thing he saw was the large window, sunlight streaming down on the still figure of Kyouya on the bed.

“Hello Kyouya.” he said quietly, walking closer to the figure on the bed. Kyouya didn’t answer, continuing to look out the window blankly.

“It would be rude of me to say I know what you’re going through, or how it will get better, or even that the pain will pass, because I would be lying. But, I’ve been through something similar, and while I won’t compare what I had to go through to what you have, I have an idea.” he said softly, sitting on the chair at the foot of the bed, staring at the window.

“My last day in the Arena had more people since it was the 70th Games and there were twice as many tributes. It was rough, the other three tributes from my district were already killed, and those who were left were the Careers. I was only ten, yet I had blood on my hands and little remorse. There is a reason for my name, and it was on that last day that people gave it to me.” Skull lightly laughed, voice beginning to waver.

“I, uh, I want you to know that after all of this is over, all the bells and whistles, all the parties and festivities, all the attention, after it’s all over, you get a chance to unpack, to take time for yourself and begin to heal. It’s tough, but I know you're strong enough to do it. You’ll even have a roommate named Tsuna, who’s gone through the Games as well. I think you two might get along.”

“I also want to let you know that despite how twisted it is to say it, I’m proud of you and I-” he stopped briefly, stuttering, “and I-Iris. You both made me so proud and while you might be sitting here, know that I’m proud you survived.”

Kyouya just turned to look in his direction, eyes not quite focusing on him as if he could see through him, only a small hint of their former sharpness showing through. He moved closer, lifting an arm and taking the small window of opportunity to let Kyouya lean into his side, the two of them looking out the window again.

“It’s no longer June 7th. Today is a new day.”

☁️

“Ah, Tsuna!” Skull shouted, exiting the elevator and walking to the common room, the sound of his boots echoing throughout the floor.

“Skull? What brings you here?” Tsuna asked, raising his head up from the couch where he was lying, brown eyes blinking curiously.

“Well, it’s about the newest Victor. He’s not really himself anymore, not really meeker but more spaced-out. I was wondering if you could help him out when he gets here? He can be a little clingy right now, but,” Skull moved closer, bending down so he could whisper the last part into Tsuna’s ear, “he will make a good partner in helping your rebellion. He certainly has a strong reason to fight.”

Tsuna’s eyes widened, a smile blooming across his face. “Really? That’s great! Well, not the part about him feeling off, but the other part. AH!” Tsuna cut himself off, a worried look on his face. “Not that it’s good his trauma might be-” he cut himself off, pouting as Skull laughed loudly.

“Nah, I get what you’re saying. Decade Victor to Decade Victor, I understand exactly what you mean. Now! On to a lighter topic! Are you ready to help teach him when the time comes? It is coming up soon, if I’m not mistaken? Actually,” Skull frowned, sitting himself in a chair, “has Reborn even mentioned anything to you about teaching?”

Tsuna shook his head, settling back down on the couch. “He hasn’t visited me recently, the last I saw him was maybe two weeks before the Games. I guess he was busy?” Tsuna asked, the last sentence coming off as a question rather than a sure statement.

Skull snorted, rolling his eyes. “Yeah, no. If I was a betting man, I would say that he only trained one group of tributes. I remember he was angry when the District Six tributes got higher scores than his District Four Careers got.” Skull shrugged, not concerned.

“Hmm.” Tsuna hummed, lighting one tip of his finger up and moving the small flame between his fingers, lost in thought. “Does this mean Reborn is loyal to the Capitol? I haven’t interacted with him enough to be able to tell.”

“Well, he’s certainly the most loyal after Luce, Aria, and Uni. He probably wouldn’t help nor hinder the Capitol, which is less than the three cousins would. Lord knows how deep those three are in the Capitol’s pocket.” Skull answered, being completely truthful.

“Ah, I see.” Tsuna said simply, still moving the flame between his fingers. “How unfortunate.”

Skull rolled his eyes and let his head loll on the back of the chair. “Yeah, I guess. I mean, it’s not as if I like them, but it seems sad how indoctrinated they are into the Capitol lifestyle. Sometimes I don’t know if it’s better than what Lal, Colonnello, and Verde do. Ugh, everything’s so complicated.” Skull groaned, making Tsuna laugh.

“From what I’ve gathered after only being here for one year, that seems to be the common consensus. Well,” Tsuna extinguished the flame, getting up and sitting on the couch rather than staying lain down, “I assume there might be other business you wish to discuss?” He raised his eyebrow, raising the other one after Skull nodded, his serious expression darkening the mood of the room.

“I was thinking, what if I became a Mentor for some tributes that weren’t from my district? If I can scope those without a confirmed Mentor, I can use my reputation to take them under my wing. It would certainly help to get some good people on this floor.” Skull said, tilting his head.

“Ah, that would work well. Great idea.” Tsuna responded, eyes thoughtful. “It would certainly make things less lonely here, if they’re your tributes they’re bound to be good.”

“Alright, at the end of March when they give us our packet and information, I’ll bring it up.” Skull responded, nodding at Tsuna who smiled in response. Skull got up and after bidding Tsuna goodbye, he walked back to the elevator and pressed the button to go to Floor 70.

“All the plans are in motion. Let’s just hope they work out.” He murmured, staring at the number ticking down, concentration breaking when the elevator doors opened and he heard shouts from the common room. Taking his time walking over, he mentally prepared himself for what might happen.

“You didn’t teach him anything about the next few weeks?” He heard Luce ask, the door opening pausing the conversation as he walked in.

“Ah! Skull! Where were you today?” Aria asked, smiling.

“Skull-sama was just visiting his precious Victor! He’s all healed up now, won’t be long before he appears in the post-Interview, Aria-chan!” Skull says, excitement bleeding into his tone.

“Oh, that’s great.” She says, her smile becoming colder.

“Yeah, it is!” Skull crowed, eyes shining.

“Enough Firstie! We aren’t talking about your tribute! We’re talking about the fact that Reborn over here, didn’t talk to Tsuna about how to help guide your tribute for and after the Gala!” Lal exclaimed, surprising him momentarily.

“EH!? Reborn-sempai, you didn’t teach him that?” Skull asked, head turning towards Reborn who just huffed in anger.

“Of course not! The Victor should be able to help them without any lessons. Since I’m such a great tutor, Tsuna is now skilled enough to do such a smile task.” Reborn retorted, glaring at Lal who kept glaring back.

“Fon, do you agree with him?” Skull asked, surprising those around the two arguing, and the two themselves. Fon just shook his head, walking into the kitchen.

“See!” Lal shouted, “Even Fon doesn’t think you’re in the right! Just fess up and admit that you never learned to teach such a matter!”

“I am willing to agree with that.” said Mammon, walking by the group to head into the kitchen as well.

“Reborn, if Mammon is willing to give such information, you’re definitely in the wrong, kora!” Colonnello exclaimed, his verbal tick showing just how agitated he was.

“Probably just because Lal is arguing and not spending time with him.” Skull said softly to himself, snickering.

“Say something Firstie?” Reborn asked, eyes narrowed in anger.

“No! Skull-sama didn’t say anything! Ah, he should also be going! It is almost bed-time, and Skull-sama will be very busy the next few days! Goodnight!” He left, closing the door and running into the bedroom, leaning on the closed door.

“Can’t they ever stop arguing, even for just a little bit?” He muttered, before hauling himself off the door and into the bathroom, beginning his nightly routine.

Arguing got them nowhere.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for not uploading recently, I was frantically studying for my ap tests and I wasn't really feeling up to writing this week.


	8. Chapter 8

* * *

The passing of time was only vaguely acknowledged by him.

Certainly, the end of June was filled with much to do, the different events and social gatherings took up space on his calendar, filling his days with a sort-of monotone routine. There was almost no time to relax, being rushed place to place didn’t offer him any privacy or even down-time in general. The few times he could think to himself his thoughts were occupied by both Kyouya and his trauma and also his own trauma resurfacing as it always did this time of the year, the only other time being the Victory Tour. There were a lot of issues resurfacing but he needed to stay strong, both for Kyouya’s sake and his own.

Kyouya was slowly getting better, not so much the dazed person he was while in the hospital, but he wasn’t quite what he was before the Games. There was fire returning to his gaze, and with Tsuna’s guidance and help, there was an improvement. It made him happy at the progress, and every time he dropped by to talk with the two, he felt that the bond between the two gradually changed from Mentor-Tribute to something closer.

He could never think about how Iris might have reacted.

July soon hit and Skull’s birthday was impending, the bright red smiley face on the calendar on the day causing him to scowl every time he saw it. The Capitol made such a huge deal over Victor’s birthdays, something that irritated all of them. The only exception to the parties was Mammon, but that was only because no one knew when their birthday was. After the first few celebrations on a day the Capitolites picked, they dropped the whole thing as a bad idea and never held a birthday bash for Mammon again.

Unfortunately for Skull, his birthday bash was a huge deal as the Capitolites were still coming off the high the Games brought. As such, Skull’s birthday was treated as an extension of the Games celebrations, and there were more consequences for messing up than if the date was later in the year. None of the others, bar Fon, knew exactly how high the bar was for behavior, and he never felt generous enough to tell them.

It was one easy way to make sure he could secure the most and best Sponsors.

July 10th was never a big deal for him, doubly so when he was in the Capitol. District Eight was very poor and due to this, quite often, he never received any gifts. His family usually just gave him well-wishes, and if the Peacekeepers were feeling generous, his shift in the factories would be shortened. As Skull, there was much fanfare on the day, a strange dichotomy that always threw him for a small loop when he thought too hard about it.

Walking around the hall in the suit Lussuria forced him into, he took some time to think, hyper-aware of the fact that there was a huge group of people in the ballroom on the bottom floor. Crowds always set off his paranoia, and while it had gotten better over the years due to the fact that he had to go to so many galas and parties, it never truly went away.

“Skull!” A voice shouted, snapping Skull out of his thoughts, smile up and on his face before he realized who called him.

“Ah, Tsuna! Not to say I’m unhappy with seeing you, but why are you here?” He asked, fake smile dropping and replaced by a small, genuine one.

“Eh,” Tsuna rubbed the back of his neck, blush spreading across his face, “I just wanted to find you. I guess, since I didn’t go to your party my first year, I would make it up to you this year!” The two of them began to walk towards the elevator, Tsuna letting him think in silence.

“Hm, well, as much as you’ll hate it, I suppose it’s good practice for when your birthday bash is, yeah?” He finally said, absentmindedly pressing the Ground Floor button. The two stood in companionable silence, Tsuna fidgeting a few times before the two hit the bottom floor, at which point their smiles went up and they walked out the doors. A cheer rose from one side of the ballroom, which prompted everyone else to cheer along, the sound grating on his ears. The two kept walking, his hand on Tsuna’s back let them move faster, as they were recognized as one unit. Slowing down when they reached his decade, Skull opened his arms and smiled.

“Aren’t you guys gonna wish Skull-sama a happy birthday? Tsuna-kun already did, so it’s your turn now!” he shouted, smiling on the inside when many Capitolites focused their attention on the group, which practically forced them to act civilly.

“Ah, happy birthday Skull.” Fon was the first to greet him, turning and smiling serenely at the others who looked at him in disbelief and betrayal.

“Mou, if you want me to say happy birthday to you, you will have to pay me." Mammon said, the typical response from them sending the Capitolites into titters.

“Well, I suppose I’ll tell you happy birthday. Now, leave me alone.” Verde went next, the fact that he even spoke made Skull jump in surprise before he laughed.

“Ah, happy birthday Skull. I’ll bake you a cake after this party is over, vanilla and mint, yes?” Luce asked, her response caused him to grin. It was only at Skull’s birthday bash where he could act more like he did in his early years, which meant calling people out on their mistakes. Luce just gave him a great opening.

“Haha! Good one Luce! Skull-sama’s favorite flavors are chocolate and raspberry! That’s ok, I’m sure you’re too busy with Reborn-sempai and the others to really remember!” There was a brief silence from the crowd before murmurs started up and from what he could hear, they weren’t exactly positive towards Luce or the others. Luce flushed, before Uni took over, her sweet smile not fazing him one bit.

“Luce is often making jokes! Skull, happy birthday!” The crowd ‘aww’-ed, before looking at the last member of the trio, Aria. She gave him a happy birthday, and the crowd’s attention turned towards the last three who hadn’t said anything yet. Reborn just turned and walked away, the party-goers parting as he left. Skull raised his eyebrows at Lal and Colonnello, expectant.

“Happy birthday Skull.” Lal finally ground out, looking displeased. Colonnello took a look at her face and refused to say anything, following her when she turned and left. Skull looked at Tsuna and winked, making him laugh. The Capitolites returned to what they were doing and the rest of the group left, aside from Fon. 

The trio slunk off to a corner of the room and stayed there the rest of the party, Skull occasionally leaving to socialize but returning soon after. The three just talked in hushed whispers, occasionally giggling when the other Victors were brushed off by the Capitolites. They even had a game as to who would look the most distraught at the end of the party. Skull bet on Luce, sure of the fact that his remark still stung. Fon bet on Colonnello, the argument being that since Lal looked so displeased when wishing Skull a happy birthday, the Capitolites wouldn’t give her the time of day, which would make her mad and wouldn’t want to talk to Colonnello the rest of the night. Tsuna bet on Reborn, positive that his need to be seen would come out full force as the Capitolites wouldn’t talk to him since he coldly brushed off doing Skull’s birthday greeting.

Tsuna won, with Fon coming in second and him last. He was momentarily surprised since Luce looked pretty distressed. When he looked at the other two, he understood why he came last. Reborn looked simultaneously murderous and depressed, a scary combination he never wanted to see on him again, and Colonnello looked to be on the verge of tears. Bidding Tsuna goodbye when the party finished and he left the elevator at Floor 70, he went immediately to the door at the end of the hallway and opened it, closing it quickly and sliding down, a sigh escaping. Sitting for a few moments, he got up and went towards the dresser, picking out a soft purple t-shirt and some black shorts, not bothering to glance at the top of the dresser and pick up what was laid out for him.

Winding down from the party was less painful than it usually was, and he figured it had something to do with Tsuna and Fon being with him the whole night. Humming lightly, he went into the bathroom and began to clean up, the makeup going first and going from there until he stood staring at a person he could almost recognize.

“Seems like I’ll have to pay those two back when their birthday bashes happen, huh?”

☁️

The summer months passed without much fuss, and the beginning of the fall months brought little fanfare except for Tsuna’s birthday bash. However, once November hit, there was little life within Floor 80 and Floor 70. The Victory Tour was looming closer and closer, and while Kyouya had healed by leaps and bounds many Victors, including himself, knew how difficult it would be on the tour. Tsuna and he had been slowly preparing Kyouya for the tour, but preparation and experience were two vastly different things. Even Reborn didn’t antagonize him too much, well aware that due to being Kyouya’s Mentor, he would need to go on the tour.

Miracles do happen, even if the price was heafy.

The Victory Tour started mid-November and would begin in District Twelve, skip the Victor’s District, and then continue up until the Capitol, after which the tour would end at the skipped district. It was cruel, designed to keep the districts’ self-esteem low, and to allow the Capitol to gloat over them. Even those from the Career Districts didn’t particularly enjoy it, but they were loyal enough to not voice any complaints. The lower districts didn’t hold such reservations, and speeches given to them would often result in silence or anger. The home district was always the worst, even if the Victor was a Career. Many of the lower districts refused to acknowledge the Victor as theirs, which could serve as a hefty blow to an already weak Victor.

He would know, first-hand experience was always trusted over word-of-mouth.

The week before the Victory Tour finally started and the Capitol was thrown into a tizzy, and celebrations were beginning to happen, even with the Capitol appearance only about a week away. He just figured it was a Capitolite thing to do, and he even thought it might make up for the fact that there was nothing to do in the Capitol. Preparations also hit a high and there was somehow even less down-time to enjoy. The day before the Victory Tour ended up with him having to pull an all-nighter, as he decided to stay with Kyouya through most of the process, which included the late-night adjustments to his outfits. He already wanted the whole thing to be over, especially since Kyouya’s Stylist decided that half of the outfits made for Kyouya were wrong, prompting an emergency fitting which finished well into the next morning. There was little time for the two to get back to their Floor, grab either a bite to eat or a cup of coffee, and then hurry to the train.

Huffing in genuine displeasure as the group boarded the train, he snuck a look at Kyouya and subtly inched closer. Lussuria and Kyouya’s Stylist were chatting with the prep team about something, and the Escort was at the edge of the group, sending looks at the Victor and Mentor pair. Skull stuck his tongue out and the Escort ‘eep’ed and turned away, face red and eyes wide. Smiling in satisfaction, he turned back to Kyouya and tilted his head minutely at a passing cabin, apparently the one he was supposed to be in for the journey. Kyouya didn’t do anything, but he could see the corner of his mouth turned up in a small smirk.

“AH! Skull-sama has stuff to take care of in his room! Is there any need for the Mentor at this moment? Certainly not, since we haven’t reached District Twelve yet!” Skull rambled, making his eyes wide at the Escort who just shook their head.

“N-no. there is no need for the Mentor right now. In fact, the Victor can also retire at this time!”

“Great!” Skull chirped, tugging Kyoya’s arm as the two turned and went back to the room that he had pointed out a few seconds earlier. Closing the door and sitting on the bed, he felt himself loosen up. Kyouya just leaned against the closed door.

“Now,” he started, leaning his head against his fist, elbow on his knee, “I know you’ve been talking with Tsuna about joining him for events. Has he taught you anything about doing so, like keeping a straight face or faking emotions?”

Kyouya shook his head. “The omnivore hasn’t quite reached that yet. I do often tussle with him, so we’ve made progress but not much.”

“Well, I suppose it could be worse. Have I told you about the time Colonnello tried to ask Mammon for help? Now _t_ _hat_ was an ordeal. I still think Colonnello doesn’t know everything, which is surprising since he clings to Lal Mirch so much. I know she knows her stuff, as much as it pains me to admit it. Back on track, I suppose I’ll teach you the lesson before we reach District Twelve, especially since you’ll need it here.”

Kyouya grimaced. “I don’t need to be taught how to keep my expression straight."

“No, but you need to learn to fake emotions. By the time we reach District Twelve, I hope you’ll be at the Capitolite level.

After all, they do it all the time.”

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry but the updates are gonna be more spaced out.


	9. Chapter 9

* * *

District Twelve looked as happy to see them as they did when he was Victor.

Which was to say, not at all.

Kyouya stood at the podium, face and eyes as expressionless as the grey buildings that surrounded the stage. The giant screen with the deceased District Twelve tributes was placed almost directly in his line of sight, the pictures staring blankly ahead. The expressions of the people were just as dead, only hints of anger in their eyes.

“Good day to everyone in District Twelve. As you know, the 81st Hunger Games ended about…” Kyouya kept talking but he tuned out the words, eyes searching the crowd for people who weren’t paying attention. Those who weren’t were focused on the crew and himself, their eyes narrowed. He refrained from fidgeting, his breathing kept even and precise.

He remembered what it was like when he was standing where Kyouya was, eleven-years-old and still having nightmares six months after the Games. The crowd had seemed a tad sympathetic, but not enough to soften their eyes. Years later, he wasn’t surprised at their sympathy, seeing hints of it in Mammon’s expression when they first met, before they donned their hood and never showed their face again. He supposed it had something to do with the culture in the district, not familiar with the hidden secrets of other districts besides District Eight. He never asked Mammon, and there wasn’t anyone else from District Twelve he could ask, so he just let the matter go.

Obviously, their sympathy had an age limit, and Kyouya wasn’t within it which was tough, as having some form of pity or sympathy given would help him when he went to the other districts. The first few districts were always the hardest, especially if you personally killed one or both of their tributes.

He hoped that District Twelve’s coldness wasn’t because Kyouya had killed one of their own.

The speech Kyouya was given was written by the Escort, and most Victors didn’t deviate from their cards, normally too tired or too lost within their own mind to make their speeches mean something. He remembered when he was giving his speech he didn’t bother to deviate, being part of the latter group. Surprisingly, the speeches weren’t televised, something he had overheard from a Capitol official and something he saw for himself when Fon was on the tour. He supposed it had something to do with the Capitol waiting for their personalized speech, and they didn’t want to know if it wasn’t.

Sighing, he tuned back into Kyouya’s speech, wondering how far he was in. There was so much emotion training he’s going to be using on the tour, he just wanted the whole thing to be over. However, he figured he would need to stay besides Kyouya during the tour, since he would need to do it a couple more times. Certainly no offense to Tsuna, but his plan balanced on the fact that Skull would need to Mentor tributes every year and make them win.

He only had  _ some  _ issues with this plan.

“... Thank you, and may Capitol fortune shine on you.” Kyouya said, and inclined his head towards the crowd. He turned around and walked towards the crew and himself, shoving the cards in his pocket. Nods were exchanged and they began walking towards the train, setting off for District Eleven.

“Well, how was it?” he asked Kyouya once they were in Skull’s cabin, this time leaning against the door while Kyouya sat on the bed.

“Hn. Could have been worse.” Kyouya answered, glancing off to the side and scowling.

“That’s…surprisingly good news. Certainly beats getting insulted before you even start the speech.” he said, shrugging lightly when Kyouya looked at him in confusion.

“Don’t worry about it, apparently that happened to a District One Victor a while ago, nobody really talks about it now but it was certainly hot gossip when I was new. Anyways, you ready for District Eleven?” He asked.

“I suppose.” Kyouya answered, surprising him when he leaned back on the bed and flopped down.

“I’ll take your word for it then.”

☁️

The rest of the Victory Tour went about as expected.

Seeing all the people and families of the fallen tributes made him feel like he got a punch in the gut. By the time they were halfway through, he was ready to collapse and cry in a dark room until he needed to be brought out again. The only thing that kept him going was that Kyouya needed him, and he wasn’t going to deprive him of something that important. The Capitol appearance and speech was just as he expected, a grand celebration with no sustenance. There were no words exchanged between the rest of his decade, except for a look of pity from Fon. 

The Victor’s Interview and Victor’s Dinner were met with great fanfare, and he could tell Kyouya would rather be anywhere else during the whole night. The Victor’s Interview went fine, but the Announcer wasn’t pulling any punches with the questions asked. There was some worry about the Victor’s Dinner, but President Vongola graciously allowed Skull and some of the prep team to join him and Kyouya for their meal.

He wouldn’t have called it anything but a power play.

The final stop was District Eight and he was almost tempted to not even leave the train, but prompting from Lussuria led to him getting out. He couldn’t look up from the ground the whole time, even though there was a risk he could trip and fall. It was one of the worst experiences he had to deal with, but he got through it and could now bond with Kyouya over the horrible treatment District Eight gave them. He wondered if Tsuna had anyone to bond with over his treatment, but decided that neither the di Giglio Nero group nor Bermuda could be considered good company for that sort of thing. He certainly didn’t have anyone to talk to about his treatment.

He could have sworn there was someone from District Eight in the 60th-decade group, but nobody came to mind.

Fortunately, the rest of the year went by with little fuss, and January and February went by with little care from him, but soon March had returned once again. This time, he actually bothered to interact with Fon at his birthday bash, deviating from the common plan he usually took. The Capitolites were all over it, but he felt that there was the potential for a genuine friendship between Fon and him.

He put his request in mid-March, and when the time came where the Escorts held the individual meetings with the Mentors, he was granted his request. Without even looking in the packet, he rushed to Tsuna and opened the packet with him.

Looked like he would be District Eleven’s new Mentor.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait, I was literally wrestling with this chapter since the last one came out. For the longest time I could only get like, two sentences out per day. Also, sorry for how short this chapter is I wanted to end it before 1) Beginning the new part and 2) I was absolutely gonna rip out my hair over how bad it was and I was worried I wouldn't be able to lengthen the chapter and still keep it "good".


	10. Chapter 10

* * *

He had never really set foot in any other districts besides District Eight.

Aside from the Victory Tours, there was no reason for him to go and visit other districts, and it wasn’t as if they would welcome him with open arms if he went. District Eleven specialized in agriculture and was dominated by fields of produce, from orchards to herb fields. He had heard that they were treated the harshest out of the other districts, and the Capitol claimed that it was because it was the district where the food was produced. It was a sharp turn from how they were formerly treated, the newest generation growing up in fear of the white uniforms and the wide-open fields.

He always figured it was because the Capitol finally learned to be scared of them.

There was a lot of open sky in the district, a sharp contrast to the gloomy smoke that curled throughout District Eight. He wondered what it must be like to grow up under such a bright, open blue sky. Shaking his head to break out of his thoughts, he headed towards where the Escort was pointing, the stage placed off to the side of the center of the district. Giving the Escort a sharp look that had them moving back in terror, he made his way to the Reaping Stage, acutely aware of the stares on his back. District Eleven hadn’t had Colonnello as a Mentor, seeing as he went and joined Lal as a Trainer once he had settled down. This meant that District Eleven never had a proper Mentor for their tributes, even if it was only two years of not having one. Fortunately, this meant that someone who really wanted to be a Mentor for them had a high chance of actually landing the job.

Lucky him.

Standing in the shadows, he watched as the Escort said their speech, stutter nonexistent. It threw him for a bit of a loop but he realized it was because District Eleven was an unfamiliar district and they didn’t have any hatred for the Escort. Once the reaping balls were brought out, he made a cursory glance at those standing. He spotted a few who looked interesting before he focused on the Reaping

“The female tribute is, Bluebell!”

Bluebell? Just Bluebell, no last name? Such an odd name for an odd-looking girl he mused, as the newly-named Bluebell made her way to the stage. Her hair was an almost obnoxious shade of blue, and he briefly wondered if her parents had the same shade. She looked as if she would fit more with District Four, as her hairpieces were shells and her clothing didn’t seem to resemble the other people’s. Her eyes reminded him of  _ her _ , which made him lightly shiver. However, the way they held themselves was a bit different, and taking a closer look at her revealed that it seemed as if she was holding back bloodlust, a worrying thing. A quick overlook and he wrote her off, hoping beyond all hope that the male tribute could be useful. As callous as that was, Tsuna needed allies and Bluebell didn’t seem like one. He could sacrifice his mind as long there was hope for an ally from each type of district.

“The male tribute is, Takeshi Yamamoto!”

As the guy made his way forwards, he could spot potential. There was a carefully crafted carefree aura around him, but as soon as he looked into his eyes, his true disposition was revealed. Takeshi could certainly be an ally to Tsuna, and that sent a wave of relief down his body. It still remained to be seen whether or not District Eight would have any candidates, but there was something about Takeshi that made him feel like he was the ally Tsuna was looking for.

The wait for the tributes to finish up their goodbyes seemed to pass easily, spending most of it locked up in his assigned cabin. He briefly wondered if by the end of the plan he would have gotten a look in every possible cabin. Skull came out of the room for a little bit, introducing himself quickly to the tributes before heading back to the room as the train made its way to District Eight. It didn’t make sense to repeat introductions, so he was going to wait until all four tributes were on the train before he began actual introductions.

District Eight’s Reaping was nothing of note, the female and male tributes not as bloodthirsty or determined to win. A pity, but he could hardly blame them for it. They seemed to fit into the other half of the personalities found in District Eight, a leader but only due to the fact that people flocked to them. He could work with it, but they certainly didn’t have the personalities of Kyouya or  _ her _ . Despite that, he liked them well-enough when he saw them walk to the stage, their first impressions giving them good marks in his book.

The meeting of the four tributes on their way to the Capitol gave him a bit of a shock, as each of their contrasting personalities barely complemented each other. The two District Eight tributes seemed to stutter constantly, even while talking to each other. Even so, the two seemed to stick together, sitting next to each other as the five of them ate a meal, and even going to their rooms together. On the other hand, the two District Eleven tributes stayed far away from each other, choosing to sit on either side of him for the meal and timing their departure from the meal to ensure they didn’t cross one another. Attitudes like that were hard to work with, which caused him to silently curse Tsuna, and by extension, Colonnello. Tsuna because he put him up to the plan, and Colonnello just by extension of being from District Eleven. It wasn’t hostile, but he did have some worry that when they were tested and given scores, the tense relations would heat up.

Trying to get them to their Stylists without issue was surprisingly easy, as the District Eight tributes continued to stick together, and the District Eleven tributes seemed to reach a truce when they found out they would be separated. He could already guess what the outfits would look like for District Eight, so after giving a cursory look at them when they appeared, he turned his attention to the District Eleven tributes. Bluebell seemed to be the luckier one out of the two, with a puffy light blue dress that complimented her hair, and a silver laurel looking accessory on her head, which, with a closer inspection, seemed to be made of grain. Takeshi was wearing a white and blue plaid shirt, with a wider circlet of grain. The common piece of clothing was overalls, which made him wonder if the Stylists thought that agriculture was synonymous with farming. If so, then what the hell did they do for District Nine? Shaking his head to get back into focus, he spoke.

“Alright! District Eight tributes, seems like the Stylists were just as merciless with your outfits as they were last year, which means you can play it two ways. One, act like you guys like each other, give off a vibe of being best friends. Two, you can try and pull off what last year’s tributes did, and be fierce. Either way, commit yourself fully to the role!” Skull said, which caused the two tributes to whisper between each other and nod.

“District Eleven tributes! No offense, but as I observed you on the train, I noticed you guys have something against each other. Now, while in different circumstances I would recommend pretending you like each other, I think you could show off a rivalry of sorts. A friendly one, but a rivalry nonetheless.” He noticed the two of them scowl at each other, but nod in confirmation.

“Alright. Good luck your four, and make sure you show the Capitolites what’s up!” Skull said with enthusiasm, and while the tributes gave lackluster responses, he noticed that they took his advice to heart.

Beginning his walk back to the Victor House, he thought about the tributes. Bluebell would give a good fight, and Takeshi seemed to be hiding a hidden strength, whether it be physical or emotional remained to be seen. There was little he could glean from the District Eight tributes, but they seemed like they would be able to make some alliances in the Arena. Thinking about alliances made him grimace, while all four tributes seemed to have a good chance at making it into the top five, they didn’t quite have the raw strength as his previous tributes did. This made him worry a bit, but he figured that they still had a month of training to go through, so one of them could certainly come out on top.

Upon entering the Victor House, he made his way to the elevator and almost hit the button for floor 70, before he remembered he needed to talk to Tsuna and hit the button for floor 80. Standing in the elevator, he thought about what he was going to tell Tsuna. Obviously, he would tell him about the potential Takeshi had, but he debated if he should warn him about none of the tributes quite hitting the bar. He also thought about whether or not to include Kyouya in their talks, but decided to leave it up to Tsuna to decide that, since he would be the one to lead the group.

The bing of the elevator snapped him out of his thoughts and he hurried to the door where he assumed Tsuna would be, remembering that the Avenue of Tributes would still be playing, even if it was over. Knocking on the door and hearing a confirmation to enter, he went to the unoccupied chair across from the occupied sofa, Tsuna and Kyouya being the ones to occupy it. Raising an eyebrow at Kyouya’s presence, Tsuna just nodded and he shrugged, acquiescing.

“So, the tributes.” He started awkwardly, almost unsure of where to start. “They seem to have the potential to land themselves into the top five, but I’m not sure if they’ll be able to win without going through the training. The one I think might be an ally is Takeshi Yamamoto from District Eleven.” At that, he pointed at the screen which, by luck, showed the District Eleven tributes in their chariot.

“The one in the plaid?” Tsuna asked, eyes focused on Takeshi when he received confirmation.

“District Eight?” Kyouya asked, shifting a little on the couch.

“Unfortunately, they don’t seem to have as much fire as you and I-Iris had last year. They have a chance, but it certainly isn’t as high as yours was.” He briefly stuttered on her name, biting his lip when Kyouya lightly flinched.

“Why didn’t you consider the girl?” Tsuna asked, bringing his attention back to the other two.

“She seems to be hiding something bad, from what I could sense when I met her. It might be something mental, or it could be something physical. I’m not too keen on asking, especially since between her and Takeshi, there seems to be some bad blood.”

“Hm.” Tsuna just said, leaning into Kyouya a little bit. He raised an eyebrow at the two, but there was no response so he brushed it off.

“In advance, I’m going to apologize for not being here as often, Dealing with four tributes is more exhausting than two, and twice as busy. I’ll make time to meet, but it is most likely going to be shorter and at later times.” 

“Alright. As much as I like talking with you, I suppose the plan comes first.” Tsuna responded, nodding in understanding.

“You’ll still visit for leisure though, yes?” Kyouya asked.

“Of course, wouldn’t want to get bitten.” He joked, getting a small smile from Kyouya.

“Good.”

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I know this chapter kinda develops fast but for each year, I wanna focus on a different bit of the time leading up to the Games. So, last year w/Iris and Kyouya I focused on the scores and Interviews, this year I'm gonna focus on something else and Interviews.
> 
> (The common thread between years are the Interviews.)


	11. Chapter 11

* * *

He had never dealt with teaching a group of people greater than two, but he supposed there was a first time for everything.

“Alright you four, it’s time to learn strategy with me today. Since it’s the first day of training, I’ll go over some things with you before getting started.” He stood at the front of the small room, the oddly-shaped table coming in handy as everyone had a whole side to themselves.

“You may know me, but for those who don’t, my name is Skull De Mort, but please call me Skull. This training is to help increase your chances of winning the Games, but I chose to have my lessons not considered mandatory. If you skip though, you’ll need to stay in your room or somewhere safe so you won’t get caught. I’ll be working with you four right up until you get your training scores, after which I’ll help you with your before-Games Interview. If any of you win, I’ll help you post-Games as well. Any questions?”

Takeshi raised his hand, and he motioned him to speak.

“Ah, well, I was wondering why we would need to be somewhere safe if we’re skipping your lessons?”

“Good question. It’s because your lessons are required. However, I feel like you should have a choice in the matter, given that you don’t have many chances to actually do what you want here. I don’t enforce attendance, but others in the apartments would do otherwise. Any other questions?” No one raised their hand, which led him to continue his speech.

“Lessons in the Training Facility are for physical development, my lessons are for mental. We’ll go over strategies, plan out individual training for when you have off-time, and later, to plan out specializations. Questions?”

One of the District Eight tributes raised their hand.

“What do you mean by specializations?”

Bluebell scoffed and opened her mouth to say something when he shot her a look, causing her to close her mouth and sneer.

“Well,” he began, turning to the board and picking up a pen, fiddling with the setting for a bit until the board showed a screen that listed some general specializations, “for example, if you find out you’re really good at identification, I’ll show you how to pursue that and the best way to show it off to the judges. If you’re good with weapons, I can help you narrow down the choice of weapon to your best fit.”

They nodded, and he turned the screen off.

“I’ll also be here to help you through any issues that might arise, whether it be your mental health, or a dispute between another person. Now, for the actual lesson, I’ll be going over any difficulties you might encounter with your first day of actual training. Your lesson in the Training Facility was just an orientation, which means the real work will begin tomorrow. With that comes the opportunity for others to scout you guys out. District Eight tributes,” he turned to look at the two, surprise evident on their faces for being called out first, “no offense, but the odds for either of you winning this year are low. This is because of the last winner being from District Eight. However, this doesn’t mean you don’t have a chance. You need to establish yourselves in training, and stay close to the top.”

He got two nods of confirmation, and then turned to the other tributes.

“District Eleven tributes, you have a bit of a better fighting chance. The last Victor from your district was Colonnello, and he has built a reputation in the Capitol. You can use that to your advantage. You also have another factor in your favor, which is that there hasn’t been a winner from your district this decade. I’ll give the same advice to you as I did the District Eight tributes, which is to establish yourselves in training and stay by the top.”

He sat at an empty side of the table, and looked each of the tributes in the eyes.

“The only warning I will give you guys right now is, do not try to one-up the Careers. Now,” he held up a hand to quell any objections, “I know you might have some words about that, but listen. If they see you doing very well, it paints a huge target on your back. Trust me, I’ve experienced it and it is hard to escape from their pack once the Games begin. If you get near their points but not above them, they won’t see you as a threat, but a potential outside ally, which guarantees a modicum of safety.” He frowned, seeing Bluebell roll her eyes mockingly.

“I’m here to teach you guys to survive, and it’s up to you if you decide to take my advice or stick it out on your own. Not to be rude, but the training your decade is getting from mine is something everyone in my decade would have killed to have.” He paused, seeing the tributes’ eyes widening.

“Even me.”

☁️

They didn’t take to his lessons like ducks to water but they certainly didn’t flop immediately.

Takeshi and the other two tributes attended his lessons every day, and even asked for his help outside of lessons. Bluebell, on the other hand, attended the first lesson and never came back. As he walked into the common room on Floor 70 and fell into a chair, he hoped her decision was due to her belief that she could win, rather than arrogance and spite. Not looking up when he heard the door open, he let out a small breath when he felt a hand lightly hit him on the head.

“Hey,” Skull lightly whined, lifting his head and seeing Fon standing beside the chair, amusement evident in his expression, “not cool.”

Fon huffed, rolling his eyes. “Good to see you too Skull. I was wondering if we could talk?”

He let out a little groan, but willingly got up from the chair and motioned Fon to follow him. Exiting the common room, he saw Mammon exit the elevator and go towards the art room. He almost called out to them but decided against it. Walking silently down the hall, he wondered if the room was presentable, but brushed the thought away.

It wasn’t his room, why would he care?

Reaching the door he opened it and stepped in the room, reaching over and turning on one of the floor lamps. Walking over to the sofa, he gently sat down on it and propped his feet on the table. Fon followed his example and sat gingerly down, giving him a smile of thanks when his back only lightly hit the hard sofa.

“Now, what’s on your mind that would lead you to talk with me?” Skull asked, sinking as low as he could into the sofa, shoes almost dangling off the other side of the table.

“Well, it’s about next year.” Fon looked away, slightly frowning. “I’ll be out of the Capitol visiting family and won’t be able to be a Mentor for District Seven or Nine. I already asked Luce to cover for District Seven, but I was wondering if you would be willing to Mentor for Nine?”

He scrambled to get out of his slouched position, yelping a bit when he ended up falling into the space between the sofa and the table. Blushing with embarrassment, he settled back onto the sofa, turning to look at Fon. Looking away quickly when Fon just smiled at him, he thought about the proposal. It almost seemed too good to be true. It would guarantee a Mentor position of a different district, allow him access to another pair of potential allies for Tsuna, and give him another chance to raise the trust and admiration the Capitol had in him.

“Who would you ask if I don’t accept?” He asked, feeling like the answer could make or break the deal.

“Reborn.” Fon answered, lips pressed into an angry line.

“Really?!” He exclaimed, jaw dropping when Fon just nodded his head. “Ok, well, seems like I’ll be accepting your offer. It’s just for next year, yeah? It’ll be fine.”

Fon let out a breath and smiled, bumping his shoulder against his. He sputtered a bit, face flushing when Fon just laughed.

“Thanks Skull.” He said, getting off the sofa and inclining his head.

“Ah, no problem Fon! I’ll be happy to help!” Skull said, giving a two-fingered salute. Waiting a few minutes until he was sure Fon had left his vicinity, he quickly got up and bolted to the elevator, passing by Luce in the hallway. Entering the elevator he hit the button for floor 80, and nervously tapped his foot until the doors opened. Knocking on the common room door, he opened it and headed straight for the chair, placing his hands on the arms and leaning forward. Tsuna looked up from where he was talking to Kyouya, eyes wide with surprise. Kyouya just ‘hn’-ed, giving a small nod to him.

“You’ll never guess what just happened!” He exclaimed, not giving Tsuna a chance to respond. “I’m gonna be a Mentor for District Nine next year! Er, I suppose I’ll have the highest chance of getting the position.” Tsuna blinked rapidly for a few seconds until a blinding grin took over his face.

“Really? That’s great Skull!”

He nodded, launching into the explanation. “I was just talking with Fon, and he said he was going to be gone for the year and needed someone to fill in as Mentor for his districts. He said he asked Luce to Mentor for Seven, and then he asked me if I was willing to take Nine! So I said yeah, and it looks like he’s gonna go talk to his Escort or something, but I think I’ve got the job!”

Tsuna clapped his hands, startling Kyouya who was beginning to fall asleep. After giving him a sheepish smile, Tsuna turned back to him and grinned. “This is great! We’ll get another chance to find people, and we won’t have to ask for a favor to get it! Of course, I’ll need to plan out what might happen if you get the job and if you don’t-” He held up a hand, cutting Tsuna off briefly.

“Hey, calm down a bit. It’s still a year away, and I’ve just started the training for this year. Relax a bit, spend more time with Kyouya, and wait until the end of these Games to worry about it. Also, keep in mind I have some experience with this sort of thing, yeah?” Tsuna blushed and opened his mouth but he raised a finger and Tsuna closed it. “Just worry about the now, alright? You’ve done a great job so far, don’t get nervous about your ability to do this.”

Tsuna nodded, determination in his eyes.

“We’ve got this.”

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hnnrg


	12. Chapter 12

* * *

This year he was very interested in what his tributes’ scores would be.

That wasn’t to say that he wasn’t interested in what his tributes’ scores were last year, but he was more assured of their place in the hierarchy. This year was more of a mixed bag, and he was a bit more curious about the numbers. While he leaned against a wall in the Training Facility, he snuck glances at the other tributes. None really stood out except one tribute who had white hair and an interesting scar on his face, but that was all. The Trainers and Gamemakers decided to be more lenient and allowed tributes to mingle between each other before getting their scores called. Obviously, this would benefit the Careers, but it also allowed him to stay with all four of his tributes, as opposed to having to keep walking between them.

“Bluebell, what’s your plan for the demonstration?” He asked, well aware that it was most likely a futile endeavor. She sniffed, flicking her hair over her shoulder, but complied.

“Well, I’m going to be doing hand-to-hand. I’ve had a lot of practice with it after all.” She shot a look at Takeshi, who just turned away.

“Hm, alright. Everyone else remembers what we’ve gone over?” The other three nodded confidently.

“District Eight, Noemi Rossi!” He gave her a nod, and she confidently walked towards the doors. A few minutes went by, and she walked out, eyes wide.

“District Eight, Flavio Basso!” He raised his fist and the two fist-bumped, and then he walked to the doors. When he came back, he had a grin on his face.

“Alright you two, you can head back to your rooms, and I’m staying here. Be careful, and make sure to thank the Avoxes in your rooms before the Games start!” He waved those two away and turned his attention back to his two other tributes. Bluebell had worryingly made her way over to the Careers who decided to stay behind, but Takeshi stayed beside him.

“Hey, Skull,” he started, “how did you do on your sword demonstration?”

He blinked, a bit taken aback by the question, but when he saw Takeshi fidgeting a bit, he understood.

“I got a ten. But, I always figured it was because I used a claymore at ten, so I never put too much stock into it. You shouldn’t worry though, from what I’ve heard about you, you’re a natural at the sword.”

Takeshi just smiled, and the two were startled by Lal’s announcement.

“District Eleven, Bluebell!” He only barely managed to spot her enter the doors, as she was so close to them in the first place. He stared at the doors for a few minutes to spot her walk out, and he was rewarded when he saw her, a wide grin on her face.

“District Eleven, Takeshi Yamamoto!” He patted Takeshi on the back and stopped leaning against the wall. Waiting a few minutes until he saw Takeshi walk back out, he gave him a thumbs up and turned to the exit.

“Wait!” Takeshi ran at him, startling the District Twelve tributes and the remaining Careers. He spotted the one with the white hair narrow his eyes, and he mentally groaned. Looked like a Career was already out for Takeshi. Halting his movement, he turned around and raised an eyebrow, causing Takeshi to blush a bit.

“Do you know a reason why Colonnello would look at me funny? When I was getting scored, I kept seeing him squint at me.” He asked, hands clamped on his arms.

“Well, if I had to take a guess, he was probably confused about how you did so well. My decade tends to think lowly of me, so it must have come as a surprise to see how talented you were with me as your Mentor. They’re kinda funny like that.”

Takeshi frowned. “But you’re a Decade Victor, shouldn’t they respect you?”

He sighed and motioned Takeshi to follow him as they walked towards the apartments. “You would think that, hell, even I thought that back in the day. Fon respects me, but I suppose it all started with Verde. You should at least know what he looks like, kinda hard to miss him with his hair, yeah?”

Takeshi nodded, eyes wide in recognition. “Oh yeah! He was one of the judges in the room when I was getting scored, the one with the glasses and lab coat!”

He grinned, “Yep, that’s him. Anyways, he was the 72nd Victor, which meant that Fon taught him the way to do everything in the Capitol. In fact,” he frowned, tapping his cheek in thought, “I don’t think I properly met him until November, if I’m remembering correctly. Either way, we were never close, and as a result, when he taught Lal, he didn’t really mention me, which meant that she never got to see what I was like once I dropped my persona. And, well, you know how Skull is.” He winked, and Takeshi let out a little laugh.

“Well, Lal taught Mammon, and Mammon refused to teach Colonnello properly, which meant that those after Lal were never introduced to me outside of Skull, since I’m pretty sure Lal neglected to tell Mammon about me.” He let out a breath, and the two came to a stop at the elevator that would lead to the actual apartments. “I suppose, due to the lack of knowledge, they figured they could get away with treating me like they do. After all, who could stop the 70th-decade winners? Actually, I should change that sentence to who could stop Reborn, but the sentiment is still the same.”

Takeshi frowned, but he motioned him into the elevator and left once the elevator was out of sight.

“After all, it makes for such a good cover.”

☁️

He would have liked to say he was surprised, but he wasn’t.

His two District Eight tributes got sevens, which as harsh as it was to say, was about as average as he’d expect. From the two District Eleven tributes, Bluebell came in with a nine, and Takeshi received an eight. A good showing, but he worried a bit that Bluebell would be targeted as soon as she set foot in the Arena.

As the interviews with the Announcer grew closer and closer, Tsuna and he began to work even more, seeing as Tsuna had decided on Takeshi being the ideal winner and ally. Reborn and the others saw him leaving more and more often, and decided to try and follow him whenever he left the floor. He knew better than to lead them to Tsuna, even if he had the excuse of visiting Kyouya, so he saw himself in the Victor’s Park more often than not on those days. It always ended up being quite nice, which meant that he found himself overlooking the balcony in the room he slept in more often than not. It was there that he often mused on the future. What would happen if there were a pair of sibling tributes, or a pair of best friends? Or if there was another tribute like him? On those nights, he found himself digging through his bag and taking out his plush.

On the day of the interviews, he stood quietly with his first pair of tributes. Like last year, his outfit was sans helmet, which he found himself deeply relieved about. He had never quite understood the reason for the helmet, but he was glad that his Stylist almost never took it out. The octopus motif on it always unsettled him, and while the helmet served as a good excuse to not talk with people, it always made him feel uncomfortable. Shaking himself out of his thoughts, Skull smiled brightly to his tributes, to which he got two small smiles in return. Noemi wore a short purple dress with a light purple sash across the waist, and long gloves that seemed to mimic smoke. It was sort of odd, seeing as the Stylist last year went for more of a cloth look, while this year they seemed to think smoke would be the theme. Flavio’s outfit also followed this theme, not unlike Kyouya matching Iris’s outfit last year.

He blinked. That was the first time he had thought about her without stuttering through her name or playing the pronoun game. His smile dropped into something more real, and the two tributes seemed to lighten up.

“District Seven male!” The TV person shouted, bringing him back into full awareness. Skull spotted Fon move behind him and gave him a small wave. Fon raised an amused eyebrow, but returned the gesture.

“You guys ready?” Skull asked, receiving a nod from both of them before the voice shouted again.

“District Eight female!” Giving one last nod of support to her, Noemi swept off, her slight heels making a small echo. Giving Flavio a small pat on the back in support, Skull stayed by his side until he was called.

“District Eight male!” One final salute to him and Skull made his way to the District Eleven tributes, giving a small nod to Mammon who stood facing him for a bit until they turned away. Glancing up to the TV screen, Skull saw Noemi enter onstage, a smile on her face.

“Noemi Rossi, one of the District Eight tributes! Welcome, welcome. Here, sit down.” the Announcer motioned to the chair and Noemi sat gracefully, smile still on her face.

“Now,” the Announcer began, clasping his hands together, “how are you feeling?”

“I’m feeling great, thanks for asking! It’s so nice here in the Capitol, I’ve been feeling wonderful since I’ve arrived here!” She clapped a few times, smile stretching.

“That’s great! Now, I’m sure everyone here wants to know, what’s it like having Skull De Mort as a Mentor? For those unaware,” the Announcer turned away from Noemi, “Skull was the Mentor to last year’s Victor Kyouya Hibari, along with being the Victor of the 70th Games. Who just so happens to come from your district.” Noemi faltered in her smile for a split second, before it returned full force.

“Oh, it was amazing! Even with his reputation in our district, he was still a wonderful Mentor!”

“Oh ho? Reputation? Whatever do you mean by that?” The Announcer leaned forward and Noemi’s grin turned into a nervous one.

“Well, I’m not sure I’m in a place to comment on it. After all, he is my Mentor, and I’d hate to be the cause of unfounded rumors.” Noemi backtracked, sitting tall even when the crowd began to murmur.

“How nice! His tributes seem to be fond of him, enough so that they won’t start any rumors to paint him in an even better light than he is! Everyone, Noemi Rossi!” The Announcer stood.

“Also, if you would be so kind, please stand up and show off your dress.” Noemi complied, the sash fluttering.

Skull frowned, tensing up. Waving off a look from Fon, he narrowed his eyes. It certainly wasn’t Noemi’s fault that she said what she said, but it did present a small problem for Skull. He put the matter behind him when he saw Flavio enter the stage, a smile on his face.

“Our other District Eight tribute, Flavio Basso!” the audience cheered, Flavio waving to them once he sat down.

“Now, you and Noemi received the same score, how do you feel about your chances of winning the Games?” the Announcer started off with a strong question, perhaps to take the audience’s mind off the last question.

“Well, I think I have a strong chance, especially since Skull was such a good Mentor for me.” Skull smiled, the smile actually genuine.

“Oh wow! Confidence is always important to have before the Games, and it seems like you have a lot of it!. Now, about Skull.” the Announcer leaned forward in his chair, repeating the motion he made when Noemi was on stage. Skull flinched and Takeshi sent him a confused look, but he brushed it off.

“Noemi let us know about the reputation he has in your district, and we’re all dying to know about it. So, what can you tell us?” Flavio stiffened, and the Announcer’s eyes lit up in interest.

“Eh, well, what did Noemi say? I certainly don’t repeat information.”

“Not much, she just said that she felt it wasn’t her place to comment on it. So, what’s the scoop?” Flavio seemed to get more visibly stressed, and Skull couldn’t blame him. There were a lot of strong feelings on him in District Eight, and they weren’t something you could speak about during the interview, much less on TV.

“Ah, well, it’s just that people in District Eight talk about him often, and they are very passionate about their feelings. He is well-known around the district, and so is his brother.”

Skull quickly excused himself from his tributes with a shaky smile and his facade cracking when he wished them good luck. Once out of sight, he ran to the nearest restroom and locked the door, just in time as his cloud flames raged around him.

His brother.

He sat on the cold floor, the purple light his flames gave off casting an odd glow on his face. Burying his head in his hands, he tried to practice some breathing exercises to calm down, wrestling with his flames to bring them back under control. Once encased in darkness, he hugged his legs and placed his chin on his knees and closed his eyes. It had been a long time since he thought about his brother, and an even longer time since he wondered what had happened to him. He let out a watery laugh, the sound echoing weakly in the dark room. He had been in the Capitol for twelve years, yet he broke down the moment he heard about his brother?

  
Pathetic.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor boy. Unfortunately, it's gonna pop up again. His brother or his breakdown? Who knows...


	13. Chapter 13

* * *

He really never was lucky, was he?

Because of his brief stint in the bathroom, he missed out on seeing his District Eleven tributes’ interviews, something he was actually looking forward to. And it wasn’t just the fact that it would be the last time he would see them before they ended up in the Arena, but he genuinely wanted to see them on the stage. He walked to the Victor House in low spirits, barely greeting the Avoxes before entering the elevator and going to Floor 70. He still felt numb as he walked into the kitchen, his mood so heavy he didn’t notice some of his decade group move in close to him.

“So, ” he heard one of them start to speak, but he kept his still-irritated eyes forwards, staring blankly at one of the wall tiles, “Mammon told us of a little incident earlier during the tribute interviews and we were curious what happened.”

He didn’t speak for a bit, continuing to stare at the wall before moving to get a small container from the fridge. He briefly entertained the thought of being Skull, but he brushed it away since he was too tired to do so. Briefly placing the container on the nearby counter, he rubbed his eyes with his fingertips, the dancing red and black colors flashing behind his eyelids. He took a deep breath and picked up the container again, squeezing his eyelids together to get some relief from his irritated eyes. He walked towards the common room and to the door to leave, choosing to speak when his hand was on the doorknob. He didn’t even bother to turn to face those who followed him.

“I’m fine. It doesn’t really matter what Mammon said, I’ll be over it and we can go back to being normal, alright? No need to worry your heads about it.” he spoke, his voice devoid of any emotion. He twisted the doorknob and stepped into the cold hallway, kicking the door shut when he could. He slowly walked to the door at the end of the hallway and opened it, softly shutting it when he turned on a floor lamp. He softly placed the container on the table in front of the couches and went to open the balcony doors, coming back and grabbing the container before sitting on the balcony.

He glanced at the container, eyes tracing a design he had known all his childhood, before he carefully ripped the seal off the opening, the container making a soft popping noise when he opened it. In the container lay some small berries, the vibrant red becoming washed out underneath the pale moon. They were rosehip berries, and while ever since coming to the Capitol they gave him a headache when he made them into tea and drank it, they were a tangible reminder of his home. He popped one in his mouth and chewed, the slightly bitter taste reminding him of a time long past.

It was rare that he felt so melancholy about his home, but he supposed it had to do with what happened earlier. He laid beneath the moon, occasionally grabbing a berry and eating it while he gazed at the sky, the area around the Victor House and Victor’s Park being dark, the lights of the ever-busy Capitol not making their way over. He looked at the stars and wondered, could his brother be looking at them at the same time? Would his mother’s eyes wander up to the sky and see the same stars as he could? Was there still a connection between his family, a tie that wasn’t burned, broken, or stretched so thin it could break with one wrong move? His hand inched towards the container but he held himself back. He only had a limited supply of them, and if he was to make some tea before the next batch came in, he would need to save the rest. They were a rare treat for him to have, and his supply of them only came in once every six months so he needed to make them last.

He stayed outside until he spotted the warm colors of sunrise. The May weather was kind to him, and he hadn’t needed to get up and grab something to keep him warm during the night. He begrudgingly lifted himself up and stood at the balcony railing, letting a cool wind ruffle up his hair. He picked up the container and went inside, locking the balcony doors and going to the kitchen to put the container back into the fridge. On his way, he passed Mammon in the hallway, who didn’t turn to face him and kept walking to their room. He lightly huffed, rolled his eyes, and upon reaching the kitchen, gently placed the container back on the shelf where he had taken it from. He walked into the common room and saw that the TV hadn’t been turned on yet. It was rather odd since he had seen Mammon in the hallway, which meant that there was someone to turn the TV on, but he guessed it was too early to see anything interesting. On his way back to the room, he passed by a tired-looking Fon, who gave him a small smile which he returned.

Opening the door and closing it, he went to lie on the bed after he finished taking his makeup off. He had forgotten he still had it on and after seeing himself in the mirror, he was rather glad he remembered to take it off. Rolling over, he tapped the clock next to the bed and it turned on, the bright purple numbers giving him the time.

Six-thirty.

He rolled back and settled into the bed. Perhaps he could sleep through the day and not worry about the afternoon? Maybe his sleep would be deep enough to block out the sounds of the cannons booming, the Announcer talking, and the silent agony of the tributes?

It wouldn’t hurt to try.

☁️

June 10th and June 7th were burned into his memory and he had a feeling June 5th would follow.

He followed the actions of the previous year, not coming out until there were a small number of tributes left. Even then, he refused to be in the common room, too hesitant of the TV and the news it would bring. Despite his caution, he was still around when the final canon went off and the picture of the newest Victor was shown on screen.

It was Takeshi.

He wasn’t quite sure what happened after he saw the photo, but he somehow ended up with Tsuna and Kyouya, staring blankly at the small vase of flowers they put on the otherwise drab table. He could hear Tsuna quietly whispering and Kyouya vaguely responding, but it all sounded muffled, hushed over the roaring of the noise in his ears. He wasn’t even entirely sure why this was so emotional for him, it wasn’t as if he grew too deeply attached to his tributes. He understood the need to grow close, but not too close in case they died, and he knew that was what he did this year. There was just something that fundamentally _hurt_ , and he didn’t know what or why that was.

Maybe it was better that he never understood.

He felt a hand on his shoulder and when he looked up, he saw it was Tsuna with something akin to pity in his eyes. Pressing his lips together, he turned his head back to the flowers, idly watching as one of the purple petals fell off and landed on the table. It was a purple hyacinth, and he bitterly thought it fitting. A pretty flower, but the meaning for it was not lost on him. He looked at the different colors on the petals, the differing shades of purple adding to the visual overall. The purple crocus and orange frangipani were odd flowers to have paired together, but the blue aster being present made even less sense. None of them complimented one another, yet there they were, four flowers in one lonely vase. He just brushed it off and focused back on the hyacinth.

After seeing Tsuna frown and turn back to Kyouya out of the corner of his eye, he resolved to do a better job next year. He couldn't get close to his tributes, and he couldn’t let his issues get in the way of doing his job. There was a routine he needed to keep whether or not he liked it, and he couldn’t let his emotions get in the way. Next year he would be better, do a better job, have better control.

He needed to.

He got off the couch, not hearing Tsuna’s protests or seeing Kyouya’s looks, and left. The short elevator ride was quiet, but it gave him time to think everything over. Walking out the doors, he was bombarded with the rest of his decade group trying to talk with him their voices growing louder and their gestures grander. He ignored them all and headed to the room at the end of the hall, silently locking the door. He sat down on the bed and reached below it, hands grazing familiar cloth handles. He hefted his bag onto the bed and after rummaging around, lifted up his necklace.

He held it up to the light streaming through the open balcony doors and blankly noticed the beads shimmering in the light. He put it aside on the bed and zipped his bag shut, returning it back under the bed. He took the necklace into the bathroom where he stared into the mirror for a while before fiddling with the clasp and putting it on and letting it settle beneath his shirt, his initials on his skin like a brand for the first time in over a decade. Leaving the bathroom, he went to the corner of the room and grabbed what was there and brought it with him to the bed.

He stared at the fabric over the bed, before turning and putting what he had grabbed onto the end table. He held that position for a bit before turning back to his position of face-up. His mind was blank, and he felt nothing but the light breeze through the balcony doors

Everything was numb.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :) intensifies
> 
> Skull: "maybe going to sleep will help me block out my recently unearthed trama!"
> 
> Me: "no bitch try again"


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Mentions of suicide (i'll have asterisks where it starts and ends)
> 
> *check the end notes on it!*

* * *

There was something off about Takeshi.

He had noticed that after he was released from where he was placed after the Games ended, he kept on smiling. This sent alarm bells ringing in his brain. There was no way that Takeshi was able to bounce back so quickly after the Games, no Victor ever had. 

Well, except maybe Bermuda, but that was a different story. 

He had known Takeshi for a while, and while there were certainly things he didn’t know about, he definitely knew his different tells and whatnot. However, aside from the little help he could give as Takeshi’s former Mentor, it was almost all in Tsuna’s hands. Fortunately, Tsuna was glad to take the reins, and he felt comfortable leaving it almost all up to him.

He sighed and made his way to his birthday bash. There was very little he was interested in doing, and the only tolerable person there was Fon. Tsuna, Kyouya, and Takeshi weren’t there, and while he could understand why Takeshi wouldn’t the other two not attending was quite odd, especially since he had gotten closer to them. Once the elevator doors opened, he exited, swiftly making his way to his decade group. He wasn’t in the mood to mingle, and he definitely wasn’t in the mood to talk to anyone aside from Fon.

“Hello.” he said, quickly snatching a drink from a passing waiter. Fon tilted his head and said, “Ah, happy birthday Skull.” 

The rest of his decade looked at him in confusion, and he scowled. “Just get on with it. I don’t have all day, you know?”

The others shot each other looks of confusion, before Mammon stepped up. “Mou, happy birthday I suppose. You own me fifty for saying that.”

He rolled his eyes. “Fifty what?”

“Yes.” They walked away, and the rest stood in silence for a minute before Lal, and by extension Colonnello, stepped up.

“Happy birthday Skull.” Lal said sharply, and Colonnello repeated it. The two quickly turned and while _they_ wouldn’t have described it as fled, he certainly would. Verde and Reborn just nodded at him and left, and Luce, Aria, and Uni each gave him a cheery happy birthday.

All in all, a successful operation in his eyes.

He turned to Fon and motioned him towards a potted fern in one corner of the room. Upon arrival, he snagged another drink from a waiter, and downed the whole thing before turning back to Fon.

“Listen, I know you wanna talk with me. So let’s talk.”

Fon sighed. “Are you sure you’ll be able to handle District Nine next cycle? I’m certainly not doubting your ability to Mentor, but, well, after what happened at the interviews this year, I’m a bit worried about you.”

Skull laughed, and patted his back. “Aw, don’t worry! I’m not offended by your concern, it’s just, well,” he swung his arms out, shrugging, “I’m fine.”

Fon raised an eyebrow, and Skull sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck.

“Ok, maybe not fine according to your standards, but I’m fine according to my standards, so, I’m good.” He gave Fon a genuine smile. “Thanks for worrying about me though, it’s nice to have someone care about me that isn’t my own Victor, or Tsuna.”

Fon gently knocked a hand against his shoulder, “It’s only kind.”

He blushed lightly, before a voice rang out in the room.

“Carnivore!” The two sighed, identifying the voice easily.

“Well,” he turned to Fon, shrugging his shoulders in resignation, “looks like I’m being summoned.” He turned to walk to where he assumed Kyouya was, before he felt a tug on his back. He turned around and saw Fon with an embarrassed look on his face.

“Ah, do you think Kyouya would mind if I came along. That is, if you were ok with it first.” He stood still, stunned at what he heard. A few seconds passed, and he was able to respond, “Uh, yeah, sure! It’s alright with me, and I’m sure it’s nothing confidential, so you can come along.”

Fon smiled, and the two made their way to the elevator, brushing off almost everyone who tried to talk with the two. Upon reaching the elevator and getting in, Kyouya looked at him with a question in his eyes, and he just shrugged. The three stood in silence for the entire ride, and they stayed silent until they reached Floor 80's common room.

"Skull-" Tsuna started, looking up from where he held Takeshi in his arms, and did a double-take when he saw Fon standing next to him. Fon awkwardly smiled, and Tsuna looked to Kyouya, only to be given a narrow look, to which Tsuna swung to look at him for answers.

"Ah, well," his eyes darted around the room, looking anywhere but Tsuna, "We were talking together when Kyouya so kindly called for us, and I trust Fon, so I figured he could be brought along. It is ok, yeah?"

Tsuna just blinked in something akin to shock, before nodding, which caused his shoulders to relax. He went to the chair but was rebuffed by Kyouya, which forced him to sit on the other couch next to Fon.

"So, let's not beat around the bush. What was so urgent to cause you to ask Kyouya to get us?" He asked, eyes trained on Takeshi who still hadn't looked up from where he clutched Tsuna's shirt.

******

"Well…," Tsuna trailed off, using one arm to lightly pat Takeshi on the head when he shifted, "Ah, well, to put it kindly-" Tsuna was interrupted by Takeshi, who finally looked up.

"I tried to jump off the balcony in Tsuna's room." He said blankly, eyes trained on him.

He blinked, words not registering for a moment, before his eyes widened. He made no move to get closer to Takeshi, respecting the fact that it wasn't him who needed to physically comfort him.

"Jump off the balcony? Like, today? Just now?" He asked, body tensing up when Takeshi just nodded in response to all of his questions.

"I found him, before he did it." Tsuna said quietly, his arm that still held Takeshi tightening.

No one spoke, until Fon broke the silence. "May I presume that Tsuna stopped you before you could," he gestured uncomfortably, feeling like the word he was using wasn't quite right, "jump?"

Takeshi nodded, arm reaching out and coming around Tsuna's back. The four sat quietly, no one quite able or willing to break the silence. A few minutes passed, before he spoke.

"It's certainly not something to be ashamed of. Of course, it's not something to be brushed off easily, and we will be finding a way to help you out, but don't think the worst of yourself." 

He smiled grimly, "I certainly thought about doing such a thing myself, back in the early years of being a Victor. A Decade Victor, a title no one wants to have, none more so than little ten-year-old me."

He leaned back into the hard couch, and didn't acknowledge Fon's hand sliding into his. Fon nodded, "While I can't speak for Skull, nor for the rest of our decade, I know that I myself have had such thoughts before. Takeshi, you're not alone. There are others who, while they don't have the same experiences as you, have had similar feelings. They can help you out, if you take some time and talk with them."

******

Takeshi sat quietly, before raising his head. "Thank you."

He gave a small smile, "We've got you."

☁️

After the bash, Takeshi changed.

He became lighter, like the talk his decade had with him lifted some invisible weight from his shoulders. He would talk more, and while he would smile less, the smiles he gave were genuine, rather than the plastic ones he used before. Fon became closer to their group, and he would talk with him outside of formal events or requests.

The others caught onto the change in their dynamic, and would constantly ask questions about what happened. Fon would just walk away serenely, and he would either laugh and not answer, or ignore the questions. The di Giglio Nero's were especially persistent, and there were occasions where he would wonder if they were aware of what happened, but brushed it off. He knew they weren't harmless, but they were exactly the type to be a step ahead of him. He heard whispers for the Capitolites about a potential secret romance, but he never dwelt on those rumors for too long. It felt weird to listen to strangers gossip about his love life, and so he never stayed in the conversation whenever it was brought up.

Soon enough, the seasons changed and he found himself in the middle of fall, anxiously waiting for the Victory Tour to start and end. It was just like the year before, except for the fact that Takeshi's Stylist had no last-minute emergency wardrobe changes. He felt a bit better about not leaving District Eight for last, but the queasy feeling of being there anyway still persisted.

He knew Takeshi was just as nervous about seeing District Eleven, so he spent more and more time with him to help him feel a bit better. Once the day came their group departed, their masks having a lot more confidence then they did.

District Twelve went as well as it could have. Takeshi didn't receive quite as cold of a reception as Kyouya did, but it wasn't like they welcomed Takeshi with open arms either. When their train passed District Eleven, he spotted Takeshi look longingly out the window.

One yearns for what they can't have, he supposed.

The rest of the stops went as smooth as they could be, the only disruptions being a family from District Two that rudely shouted at Takeshi for killing their son before being escorted away by the Peacekeepers, and his own balking at being in District Eight. He could even say that the Victor’s Dinner went well, despite a brief issue Takeshi took with the sushi offered. 

It wasn't an awful experience, but like always, he wouldn't want to experience it again.

Nothing he cared about happened until March, so while he went to both Uni’s and Lal’s birthday bashes, he spent most of his time with the extended group on Floor 80. He almost forgot about Fon leaving until one day when he showed up at his door and informed him he would leave right after his birthday bash.

Despite this set-back, he felt like he was back in business. Sure, he may have had a little incident the last Games, but surely there wouldn't be anything to set him off this time.

Right?

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this one took so long! I originally wrote a full chapter with a completely different plotline, but then I realized it didn't quite fit so I had to re-write the whole thing. I debated on whether or not to include the thing w/Takeshi to be on-screen or mentioned, but then I remembered in the Actual Anime and In Canon it's directly addressed, so I took the leap and put it in. I'm not good with writing out something like what I did, but I hope it's not awful.
> 
> *The mention of suicide would be the thing w/Takeshi in canon*


	15. Chapter 15

* * *

First impressions were everything, but did Lussuria really have to go as far as he did?

He sulked as he got off the train, tugging at the cuffs of his shirt as he walked. He was in District Nine, and his first impression was that it seemed a lot emptier than District Eleven or Eight. He would know definitively for the latter, seeing as he just came from there. There were fields and fields of grain spread out around him, so much so that he wasn’t quite sure where the road was until he walked onto it and immediately fell.

“Ow.” He said, rubbing at his side, scowling at the fact that it would probably bruise. It wasn’t fair, he thought to himself as he climbed the steps to the stage, wincing every time he walked, it wasn’t fair that the train stop in District Nine was right in the middle of their grain fields. Well, he mused, rubbing his side gently, it wasn’t as if the grain was particularly high, it was just so abundant that there was no visible dirt. He shot a glare at the Escort, feeling some of his tension ease when he heard a squeak of fear. Maybe, he thought, maybe he could understand why Reborn took such fun in being as awful as he could be. There was certainly some fun to be had.

“Good afternoon District Nine!” The Escort yelled, the silence following the exact same as it always was when the Reaping started. There was no reason for any cheering in the lower districts, but he wondered if in the career districts people cheered. He certainly wouldn’t know, seeing as the first time he ever left his home was when he volunteered. People just didn’t leave their home district, so he’d need to ask someone who came from there to describe it. Shaking his head, he was brought back into the present where the Escort had just placed a hand in a ball.

“The female tribute is, Bianchi Roseto!”

A tall girl walked out from the side and he was instantly relieved that she looked older than any other tribute he’s had, almost older than anyone else in the crowd, before guilt washed over him. He shouldn’t feel relief because she’s older, but something in him settled at the thought that he would be sending one less pre-teen out into the Arena. His eyes moved from her to the Escort, and he sees him reach into the other ball.

“The male tribute is, Hayato Gokudera!”

He spotted a silver-haired figure move slowly from the crowd, and the distraught expression mixed with nausea on the tribute’s face took him aback. Was there history with the two tributes? They didn’t have the same last name, and while their eyes looked similar, most people from District Nine had the same eye color. They looked similar in age, so maybe they were childhood friends?

There was another explanation that his mind refused to touch upon.

He heard a quiet sob and looked over to see a woman with the same hair as the tribute with her head in her hands, and a man attempting to comfort her. He figured those must be his parents, and he tried to look around to see if he could find another pair but was broken from his search by Lussuria, who pointedly looked at the cuffs of his shirt. He looked away and dropped the search, following his Stylist obediently onto the train. He hung around in his assigned cabin, and only walked out when he heard the summons for dinner. He debated for a bit on even accepting the summons, but ultimately accepted them when he came to the conclusion that it was better to connect with the tributes before the Avenue of the Tributes. He steeled himself with his new plan, and walked out for dinner.

“Hello, tributes!” Skull waved, smiling awkwardly when there was no movement from any of the four tributes. He opened his mouth to start talking, but ended up shrugging and sat down, aware of the eyes that stayed on him. The meal passed in silence, occasionally broken by Skull who would ask the Avoxes about something. At the end of the meal, he got up to leave the table when a gruff voice caught his attention and he turned.

“What the hell you do want?” The voice he identified as Hayato’s demanded, eyes narrowed into a glare while Skull just blinked. He looked around, and pointed a finger at himself, to which Hayato scowled.

“Me? I’m your Mentor. Er, well, supposed to be, anyways.” He said rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.

“Why didn’t you say so?” A different voice jumped in, Bianchi gracing Skull with an upturned brow.

“Well, I would have, but you lot didn’t seem to want to talk, so I didn’t say anything. Who did you think I was?” He asked, a bit confused.

All the tributes looked at each other and shrugged, which sent a sliver of amusement through him. He sat back down and politely waved off the Avox who drew closer.

“Well, are you guys gonna introduce yourself, or am I going to have to bring out my whole spiel?” The four tributes gave each other another set of looks, before the girl from District Eight spoke. 

“Hello, my name is Laelia Barone, and I’m from District Eight like this guy.” She lightly pushed the shoulder of the other District Eight tribute, who just rolled his eyes.

“My name is Leonardo Accardi.” He said shortly, which caused Laelia to huff in frustration.

“Nice to meet you, my name is Bianchi Roseto and as you can guess, I’m from District Nine.” She nudged Hayato, who looked faintly sick but still held his scowl. Bianchi rolled her eyes, and said, “And he’s Hayato Gokudera. He’s a bit, hmm, shy, shall we say?” Everyone in the room gave her a look, but she just smiled.

“Alright!” Skull clapped his hands, a grin blooming on his face, “I’m glad we’ve gotten the introductions out of the way. You most likely don’t know me,” at that, Laelia and Leonardo looked away, which caused Bianchi and Hayato to look at them in confusion, “but my name is Skull De Mort, Man Whom Death Despised! Please just call me Skull though.” He grinned at the four tributes. Three smiled back, while Hayato just looked to the side.

He sighed internally. Were their names and attitudes _supposed_ to make him break his promise? For once, maybe he didn’t want to become attached to his tributes, have a little peace to himself.

Somewhere, something was probably laughing at him.

“So,” he started, placing his elbows on the table and resting his head in his hands, “any cool things you wanna tell me before we get to the Capitol?”

Bianchi smirked, and began to speak. “Well, the two of us come from the northern part of the district, up by The Wilds. There’s a whole bunch of wild animals there, so one time while I was out in one of the fields, a huge bear came wandering out of the woods. Hayato here screamed like a girl, and so some Peacekeepers came by and got rid of it.”

Hayato scrunched up his nose when she said the last sentence, and chimed in, “Actually, I didn’t scream like a girl, you just added that in.” 

Bianchi smirked, and shrugged her shoulders, “Well, they don't know that. And it’s not like you’re gonna be hovering right by me the whole time we’re here, so I can add some things to my stories.”

Skull laughed. “You know what, I’ll count that as something from both of you.” He turned to Laelia and Leonardo, “You guys don’t have to say anything, but if you want to, we’re all ears.”

Laelia grinned, and he briefly wondered if it was her default expression, and she started to talk. “Well, I know you’re probably familiar with this,” she directed this at Skull, who just raised an eyebrow, “but every year, to bring in the new year, we have a small festival where we collect a small piece of cloth from everyone and we all sew it together and hang it by the border of District Twelve. The next day, it would be gone.”

Leonardo nodded, and Bianchi and Hayato looked intrigued. “We started it as a tradition a while ago, and no one really knows how they found out about it, but it’s been a thing we’ve done ever since.”

The small-talk continued, and when they reached the Capitol, the Stylists took them away and he was forced to wait until they came back. When the four returned, he briefly thought that the Stylists had actually done well this year, before laughing to himself in amusement. The District Eight costumes were pretty much the same as they were for the past two years, but the District Nine costumes threw him for a loop. He distinctly remembered wondering what their costumes looked like last year and if their Stylists were like District Eight’s, then he finally got his answer.

He wouldn’t say they were bad, per say, but the silver ruffles around Bianchi’s neck looked quite odd, and the fact that both of their outfits were entirely silver didn’t do Hayato’s hair any favors. The large silver scales and buttons on their outfits also didn’t help to make them look more respectable.

It really was the pot calling the kettle black, since he had his hair dyed bright purple by Lussuria for his costume.

“Ah, the curse of District Eight’s costumes strikes again! Tough luck you guys, but I think instead of going all Kyouya and Iris for the Avenue of the Tributes, you should go more for Flavio and Noemi.” The two looked at each other in consideration, and then Bianchi asked a question.

“Ah, sorry, who are they?” Skull inhaled sharply, while Laelia and Leonardo gave Bianchi twin looks of something he guessed was unhappiness.

“Well, uh, they were the past four District Eight tributes.” He swallowed, “You probably know Kyouya by the name Skylark, but the others didn’t win.” 

Laelia frowned, reaching out a hand to pat him on the back, and then faced Bianchi. “We know them, especially since they were recent tributes. I get that you didn’t understand what he told us, but it was kinda advice for _us_.” Bianchi looked down.

“Sorry.” She said quietly, lifting her head up to give the three former District Eight residents an apology. Hayato kept looking to the side.

“Ah, well,” Skull cleared his throat and continued, “as long as you two get what I’m saying.” They nodded, and then he turned towards the still-apologetic Bianchi and Hayato. “You two could try and be flashy, especially since your costume is pretty,” he searched for the right word, “bright. If you can pull that off, you two won’t need personas to bounce off each other.” They nodded, and then he addressed all of them.

“Alright everyone, go and show the Capitol you're the best!”

☁️

He needed to find other people to hang out with.

Instead of going straight to floor 70 or to hang out on floor 80, he decided to go to the Victor’s Park. As he walked along the roads, the bright, neon store signs causing spots in his vision, he wondered what Fon was doing. He was off in District Seven, and he wondered what it was like there. Were there really a lot of trees there? Was the grass soft, or was it brittle and thorny like in District Eight?

Reaching the park, he headed towards the sound of running water, the fountain still on. He usually went to one of the smaller parts, where there was a patch of grass surrounded by trees, but he decided to go to the fountain instead.

Seeing the fountain appear in his view, he hurried his pace a bit more until he reached it. He sat on the rim of it and stared unseeingly into the water. The cool April night air ruffled his hair and he shivered, the outfit Lussuria had forced him into not giving him any warmth. He thought about heading back to the Victor House, but he didn’t want to go yet. He put a hand into the water and moved it around, the cold water making everything just a little bit numb. He stared into the sky and wondered what was happening elsewhere. Someplace that didn’t have neon lights, blinding smiles, or fake laughs. Someplace that was warm and comforting, homey, and inviting.

He shook his head and pulled his hand out of the water. It would do him no favors to dwell on such thoughts, especially not now. He looked back where he entered and decided to get up and head to the Victor House. Wetting his hands, he ran them through his hair to soften the gel, and then started walking back. As he walked back, he saw a bit of movement from behind a couple of trees and he almost stopped to investigate before he decided against it. He was a Victor, and while he might not have any weapons on him, he could certainly still fight if something happened. When he reached the exit and nothing happened, he sighed to himself in relief.

Once he reached the Victor House, he headed up to floor 80 to talk with Tsuna about his next potential ally. Upon reaching the floor, he knocked on the common room door and entered, sitting down in the chair that was next to the couch. He briefly looked at the centerpiece, and was surprised to see the flowers still alive and vivid, and a new red one added to the arrangement, an anemone if he wasn’t mistaken.

Bringing his eyes back to Tsuna, he opened his mouth to speak before Tsuna cut him off, a worried expression on his face.

“Did you see the Avenue of the Tributes yet?” He asked, and the worry and concern on his face was so strong that he was afraid someone had died.

“No?” He answered, the answer coming out more like a question. Tsuna, Kyouya, and Takeshi all shared a look, before Tsuna shook his head.

“I suppose it doesn’t matter right now. Um, I assume you were going to talk about the tributes?” He asked, throwing him for a bit of a loop. Odd way to end a topic, but he wasn’t going to say anything.

“Ah, yeah. The District Eight tributes seem like good people, and I like them, but I don’t quite know if they would be suitable allies. The District Nine tributes have some promise, and I think out of the two of them, Bianchi would be your best bet.”

Tsuna raised an eyebrow. “Oh? Why Bianchi and not the other one?”

“Well,” He trailed off, eyes suddenly finding the centerpiece incredibly interesting, “Hayato has some attitude,” he paused again, trying to find the word, “issues. He probably spoke one sentence to me the whole time I was with him, and he scowls enough that I think it might be his permanent expression. I”m not saying that you couldn’t get along with him, just that he’s very prickly.”

Tsuna hummed and leaned back into the couch.

“Bianchi, on the other hand, seems rather nice and a lot more open, though I think there might be something between her and Hayato.” He paused, remembering when Hayato was reaped and the expression on his face. “Not quite sure what’s going on there, but out of the two of them, I think she’s the right one.”

Tsuna looked oddly pained, but he nodded. “Ah, ok. Well, um,” he looked at his other decade members who just shrugged, “make sure you make some time to visit us more, especially since Fon is gone.”

He nodded and stood up, smiling at the three on the couch. “Of course, especially since I now know how to juggle a four tribute schedule. Goodnight guys.” He left, softly closing the door and entering the elevator.

He pressed the floor 70 button and waited until the doors opened. He heard some soft music in the background and idly wondered when they added it in, especially since it sounded odd enough that he figured he would have noticed it sooner. When the doors opened, he exited and made his way to the kitchen, throwing a half-hearted hello to Mammon who was sitting at the counter and looking oddly-ruffled and damp. He opened the fridge and took out one berry from the container before leaving, going faster when he spotted Reborn’s fedora peeking out from behind the opening elevator doors. Running to the end of the corridor, he opened the door and slammed it shut, sighing in relief when he didn’t hear screaming.

He locked it and headed towards the bathroom, set on getting rid of his makeup. As he stood in front of the mirror, wiping away his foundation, he thought about Hayato. The teen had attitude, something the Capitol might favor or might not, but he felt that unless his attitude changed, Bianchi was the better candidate for Tsuna. Taking out his contacts and finishing up his routine, he almost one hundred percent believed she would be the better choice.

He left the bathroom and went to his closet, haphazardly flinging what he didn’t want out and onto the floor. When he found a nice tee-shirt and some sweatpants he grinned and put them on, before he went to clean up the mess he made and to hang his suit up. It wouldn’t be good for his health if he had to face Lussuria’s wrath over his mishandling of suits.

He slept peacefully.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter pour vous.
> 
> Hey! I've made a Spotify playlist for this fic! Sometimes the lyrics don't match up with the fic, so just feel the vibes.
> 
> [Vibes](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4KEzToagmrKFhjWzT2RilQ?si=tTUtUWT1SeCNeLJUBxgkKA)


	16. Chapter 16

* * *

Maybe he needed to make some tweaks to his early assessment of Bianchi.

She had somehow met up with Reborn once, and she spent most of her time daydreaming and thinking of him instead of training. It seemed as if she decided she would obsess over him rather than focus on the Games and, quite honestly, he couldn’t blame her. He wasn’t going to stop her, but he began to shift his focus to Hayato. He still hadn’t mellowed out, but it was better to be prickly than be obsessive over a Victor you met once, no matter the reason.

Also, it was Reborn, which made it worse.

He sighed as he went into the floor 70 art room, heading over to the easels set up by the window. He had only gone to the room maybe three times since he started living on floor 70, but it always impressed him when he went into it. He spotted Mammon in the corner, their back to the rest of the room and seemingly trying to sew something together, but he didn’t bother to go over and ask. He went by the smallest easel and reached into the drawer next to it and withdrew a few tubes of paint and one brush. He only took out a few tubes of paint because he didn’t plan on making a masterpiece, just something he figured he could hang on a wall.

He just wanted to have his mind be blank, and he assumed that painting could settle his thoughts. He stood in silence while he painted, the only sounds being the brush on the canvas and Mammon’s faint curses and mutters, presumably due to being poked by the needle. He frowned when the setting sun started interfering with the tones of the colors but he figured he could still power through and paint until it was only the lights left as a source of light. Once done, he didn’t look at the painting and instead cleaned up, only turning his attention back when he was finished.

It was a small landscape and once he brought his thoughts fully back online, he could tell it was heavily inspired by District Eight. It was a snowy scene and it was filled with dark tones, the only lighter color being the snow. He almost went out into the hall to call Fon in until he remembered that Fon wasn’t there. Feeling his nails dig into his palms at that thought, he took the canvas off the easel and left the room, holding back on the hip bump he normally gave to close doors.

The walk to the end of the hall was silent and the closer he got to the door, the angrier he felt. He shouldered the door open and quickly slammed it shut, lightly threw the canvas on the bed, and went into the bathroom. He stood in front of the mirror for a while, his own eyes staring at him accusingly beneath the glitter of his contacts. The grip he had on the edge of the sink was hard but he could barely feel the pain while he kept looking into the mirror. His tattoo made him seethe, a brutal reminder of the lack of control over himself and his life the moment he stepped out of the Arena and christened with his title. His hair color turned harsh under the bathroom lights and he felt a pang of longing for his previous color, the black color he shared with his brother and his mother.

He released his grip on the sink and sunk down to the floor with his back against the cabinet doors, the handles digging uncomfortably into his back going unnoticed. He brought his knees up and rested his arms on them, letting his head fall in his hands. He wasn’t sure what brought on his emotions, but he wanted to bottle them up and hide them away. He let out a soft, bitter laugh, keeping his eyes closed and his head still in his hands. It was like he had forgotten how to feel sad, how to mourn properly. Sure, he cried when his tributes died, but looking back on the moments, had he really felt sadness? Had he really felt anything aside from the burn in his eyes? He could feel the tears building, but he angrily wiped his eyes and dug the heels of his palms into them, the familiar burst of pain and the black in his vision bringing him some sense of twisted normality back.

After what felt like hours, he got up and went to the bed. He carefully lifted the canvas off and moved it to the table, and then tapped the clock by the bed and looked at the time. It was the complicated in-between time of one twenty-two, too late to still be considered night and too early to be considered day. He went back into the bathroom and prepared for sleep, ignoring the redness in his eyes and the slight flush to his cheeks under his foundation.

He climbed into bed and stared up unseeingly. His hand made its way to his neck and grabbed his necklace, the warm metal giving him a little bit of peace.

He fell into a dreamless sleep.

☁️

It wasn’t a fun task attempting to wrangle Bianchi into training, and neither was dragging her to the Training Facility.

He huffed to himself as he leaned into the wall, keeping his eyes on his tributes and scouting any potential threats. Unsurprisingly, just like the previous year, only one person stood out. They were up in the front so he assumed they were from a higher district, and they had long white hair. He briefly wondered if it was a new trend in the richer districts, but focused his attention on Hayato. He had been thinking of talking to Tsuna about his change of mind, but there was something that held him back, and it wasn’t just the looks of pity he saw being sent to him by floor 80’s residents.

Yes, even Kyouya. He wasn’t quite sure he wanted to know the reason.

“Ah, Skull?” he heard Laelia ask, and he turned around to see her and Leo standing sheepishly in a corner.

“Yeah, what’s up?” Skull asked, quickly moving towards them.

“Well, it’s not so much me asking a question, but Leo.” Laelia said, elbowing Leo in the arm causing him to let out a hiss of pain. He shot her a glare but she just turned away, pretending to focus on the group of Careers laughing farther ahead of them.

“Well, I was wondering if you could give some info on-” Lal’s voice came over the loudspeaker, interrupting their conversation.

“District One, Alyssa Lisianthus!” He saw a girl with short, light pink hair make her way to the doors and leave. He turned his attention back to Leo, who had wide eyes and suddenly looked a little more pale.

“Leo?” He asked, concern leaking into his voice. Leo blinked quickly and cleared his expression, though he could still see something akin to fright in his eyes.

“Ah, well, I was wondering if you had any last-minute tips for impressing the judges? Not as like, an attempt to get something like a double-digit score, but to boost up the number I might get by a point or two.” Lal called out the other District One tribute, but he focused on how to help Leo.

“Well, I know you have good accuracy, especially when using daggers, so why don’t you try to make a design or something, or maybe combine throwing daggers and archery together, so you can show off precision and accuracy.”

Leo looked thoughtful and then nodded, quickly hugging him before darting back over to Laelia, not looking back. When he gave her a confused expression, she just winked and gave him two thumbs up.

He walked back over to the wall and began to lean on it again when, to his surprise, Hayato came over to him. He scowled briefly, before taking a deep breath and spoke.

“It’s about my si- _Bianchi_.” He pointed to where she stood, grouped together with some Careers and gesturing violently with her hands. “Earlier, she told me she was gonna think of something to do for the judges while we waited, and that we could think some things out together. But she hasn’t talked to me once since we got here and even though I have my plan, I don’t think she has hers. Do something,” he hesitated, and then grit out, “please.”

He blinked a few times, both in shock at Hayato talking to him, and then at Hayato saying please. He quickly snapped out of it once Hayato started to look even more annoyed.

“Alright, well,” He stopped, mind coming up with and discarding different plans, “have you tried telling her that if she came up with a good plan, she might be able to see Reborn. Well, not for real, but would telling a little white lie like that really hurt?” It certainly wasn’t one of his best ideas but it seemed to work for Hayato, as he seemed to think about it and decide to go along with it. He quickly turned on his heel and made a beeline towards her, leaving him standing there in a mix of shock and surprise.

“District Eight, Laelia Barone!” Lal called, and he gave Laelia a nod of support when she looked back to him. When Leo’s name was called, he briefly looked back at him before going towards the doors. Bianchi nor Hayato looked back as they went into the room. It didn’t particularly bother him, seeing as he had grown to know them during their month of training, and they didn’t seem to be the type to look for support before heading into something like getting scored.

After the whole thing was said and done, he found himself going to talk with Tsuna, especially over the matter of Bianchi and Hayato. He found himself walking to Fon’s door to accompany him, but once outside the door, he remembered that Fon wasn’t there. He headed up to floor 80 and politely knocked on the common room door. He heard some quiet scuffling noises and then the door opened and Tsuna’s head peeked out from the small opening.

“Skull! I wasn’t expecting to see you here today.” Tsuna opened the door wider and he stepped in, lightly bumping his shoulder into Tsuna’s as a friendly greeting.

“Hey guys!” He called out, lifting his hand briefly towards Kyouya and Takeshi. He sat down on a chair and opened his mouth to begin, before Tsuna cut him off.

“It’s about Hayato and Bianchi, isn’t it?” He asked, sitting down next to the other two on the couch. He blinked for a bit and then let out a small laugh, rubbing the back of his neck.

“That obvious, huh?” Tsuna nodded.

“Skull, it’s ok. I know the issues you had last year, and the three of us don’t feel like you need to go through it again. We-” Tsuna was cut off when he placed a hand out in front of him.

“Wait. I think we’re on two different trains of thought. I have no idea what you’re talking about.” This time, Takeshi started talking.

“Hey, if you don’t want to talk about it, I get that. You saw what was happening with me, but we just want to let you know you won’t have to be alone this time.”

He scrunched up his nose and waved his hands to stop Takeshi. “Yeah, I still think we aren’t on the right page. Thank you for wanting to support me, I guess? I don’t really know what you guys are talking about, but I’m here to talk about picking Hayato over Bianchi.”

Tsuna and Takeshi gave each other confused looks, and Kyouya just let out a huff of air.

“This is why you omnivores should listen before talking.”

Tsuna pouted and put his hands on his hips, “I thought we talked about that Kyouya. Don’t call people by animal groups.”

Kyouya just rolled his eyes.

Tsuna turned back to him and smiled apologetically. “Sorry Skull, we thought you were here for a different reason.”

He waved it off, “Hey, it’s no big deal. I’m not in a rush or anything, so I’m not upset or whatever.”

“So, what do you want to say about Hayato and Bianchi?” Tsuna asked, settling back into the couch.

“Well, after spending some time with them and then waiting with them while they get their scores, I think Hayato might be the better choice. See, at first I thought Bianchi might be better because she seemed to be more outgoing and open, but ever since she started obsessing over,” he shuddered, “Reborn, she’s been hyperfocused on him. I thought that it wouldn’t be bad enough that she wouldn’t bother to come up with a plan for the judging, but I was wrong. Hayato had to come to me and ask me, with a please, might I add, to help him figure out how to get her to plan.” He took a deep breath, and started pressing down on his fingers absentmindedly. “You can see why this would be a huge issue.”

“That’s a shame.” Tsuna said, letting a couple of seconds of silence reign. “She seemed nice enough when I caught glimpses of her, but if she was obsessing enough to not plan out a way to ensure or secure survival, then I suppose I’ll agree with you and change the plans.” Takeshi gave Tsuna an odd look and Tsuna just shrugged his shoulders.

He sighed in relief and relaxed into the chair, wincing at the hard back of the chair. He briefly wondered how Tsuna could make sitting on the furniture comfortable, when something else came to mind.

“Hey, before we got it sorted out, what were you guys trying to talk to me about? Sounded pretty serious." Kyouya kept his face neutral while the other two looked akin to deer-in-headlights.

“Ah, haha, that?” Takeshi asked nervously, hand on his neck.

“Don’t worry about it Skull, we can talk after the interviews.” Tsuna said, nudging Takeshi in his arm.

“Ok. I’ll trust you.”

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been so long, I've been going through some personal things and I'm gonna be busy in august (connect to a personal thing).
> 
> [Vibes](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4KEzToagmrKFhjWzT2RilQ?si=tTUtUWT1SeCNeLJUBxgkKA)

**Author's Note:**

> Maybe I shouldn't start projects that I know I won't finish? Probably. Will I though? Yes.
> 
> I'm gonna put in a lot of subtle details in this series, be on the lookout for them!
> 
> You can reach me at my tumblr (turtlesalads), I won't mind


End file.
